


Adventure Of A Lifetime

by the_captain_of_the_ship



Category: Reylo - Fandom, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: All aboard the Ben Solo pain train, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Ben Solo is a priest, Ben remembers little Rey, Dubcon Everything, Dubcon Handjob, F/M, Kissing, Luke Skywalker causes this mess, Luke Skywalker is stupid, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Pain Train, Rey is a hooker, So. Much. Angst, and hurt, and pain, dubcon almost oral, mildly dubious consent kissing, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_captain_of_the_ship/pseuds/the_captain_of_the_ship
Summary: As if I need one more WIP... here's this mess.Thanks to Easter, I had to write this.Ben Solo is a priest.  Rey is a hooker.  Rey doesn't know he's a priest.  This is all Luke's fault.





	1. We Are Diamonds Taking Shape

I don’t know what I’m doing in Bed-Stuy at one o’clock in the morning.  This is crazy.  This is absolutely nuts.  I should have never crossed the bridge.  I should have stayed in my apartment on the Upper East Side. 

My uncle was right.  He looked me right in the eyes and said, “You can’t minister to the poor when you’ve never met them.  You’ve never been east of the FDR.”  

“Yes I have,” I argued.

“Getting lost on your way to a Pearl Jam concert when you were seventeen doesn’t count,” he countered. 

He’s a shoe in to be the next Archbishop of New York.  After the sudden death of the previous archbishop, he’s sure to be elected.  Everyone loves Bishop Luke Skywalker.  It also doesn’t hurt that his sister, my mother, is the DA of New York County.  They are twins and the play off each other well in the public eye.  They both claim to be fighting for the community they grew up in, just in different ways.  Although they were separated at birth, when they finally found each other they were inseparable. 

“I was nineteen and it was Coldplay.”  I didn’t look at him when I said it. 

“You’ve gone from your mother’s home straight to the church.  You’ve never really lived.”  That struck a chord. 

My mother is running for mayor, and she’ll probably win.  It’s merely coincidence that the twins will advance to positions of power in their chosen careers at the same time. 

Or maybe it’s God.  Who really knows?

I frowned at the thought that he’s right.  I’ve always been protected, safe in my own insular world.  When the twins were separated, my mother was adopted by her mother’s friend, a very religious family.  And my mother might have become a nun, like her mother had intended, if my handsome roguish father hadn’t come along. 

My uncle was raised by relatives of his father, who were not religious at all, but somehow he still came to the church.  Was it coincidence that my mother also attended, or was it God? 

My uncle has performed recorded miracles.  He will probably be venerated.  There were others that he told me about, that the church doesn’t officially know.  When he was younger, he claims he was visited by the Virgin Mary.  She comforted him and assured him that he would always be safe.  “Your mother, my daughter prayed to Me with her dying breath, and I will always protect you and your sister.”  That’s what Mary said to my uncle, and how he first knew he had a twin.  And the vision was what brought him to the church. 

What I didn’t tell him at the time, what I’ve never told anyone, is that I’ve had the visions too.  I’ve seen things, terrifying and miraculous…

I jump as I hear a car horn, and at the same time I glance up to see the green light I take my foot off the brake. 

Something bangs on the hood of my car and I immediately hit the brake again. 

That’s when I see her.  She’s all tan skin, freckles, and light chestnut hair.  She’s long arms and angles, with soft eyes and dewy skin. 

“Oi!  I’m walking here!”  She says the very British exclamation with a distinctly New York accent.  Something claws at my brain at the sight of her, something that needs to be thought but the idea won’t form. 

She stares at me with the most fierce righteous indignation, as if the light _wasn’t_ green and she had the right of way.  I shiver at the sight of the emotions swimming in her gorgeous eyes, and portrayed on her beautiful expressive face.  She’s exquisite. 

I watch as she struts past my car.  She’s wearing the shortest white skirt I’ve ever seen, short enough to put her bright pink panties on display.  She’s wearing a white shirt unbuttoned, but tied right under a hot pink bra.  I could count her ribs from here.  He stomach is flat and etched with definition.  Her waist is so small my fingers could touch if I grabbed hold of her.  Her thin legs go on for days, then end at high white stiletto heels.

The car behind me blares it’s horn again and I look both ways before I turn, but still keep my eyes on her.  I turn right, following her.  The street is enveloped in a muggy haze from the heat of the night, mixed with the scent of feces, alcohol and shattered dreams. 

She’s easy to follow.  The white outfit stands out against the darkness of the mood and the clothes of the people she easily weaves through.  She has a natural grace about her movements.  She has a beautiful walk, head held high and shoulders straighter than the light post she strides past.  The cloud of dark hair shifts, and I see her glance over to her left.  She knows I’m following her.  Maybe she feels the weight of my stare. 

Her bright pink lips part in a slight smile, and her steps become faster.  I slow down trying to keep sight of her.  I stop suddenly when I see her standing past a parked car almost in the street.  Thankfully there’s no one behind me. 

She approaches my car with a hint of a smile.  Her eyes take in my car, I wonder if she’s assessing the price of the luxury vehicle.  We’re supposed to live modestly, but my mom insisted that I needed a sturdy, dependable car since I do a lot of driving to visit parishioners and attend classes.  Since I’m the junior priest at my parish, I also perform mass at churches who either don’t have a permanent priest, or when a priest is ill.  So I let her buy it for me.  She has more than enough money, being the sole heir to Bail Organa’s fortune, not to mention the Naberrie dynasty. 

Suddenly her hands are on the passenger side window, and she’s smiling wickedly.  I look out the windshield for a moment, avoiding looking at her.  I realize what she is, what she does.  She’s a lady of the night.  I contemplate driving away.  I shouldn’t be here.  I have no idea what I’m doing.  I’m not equipped to handle this situation. 

My uncle’s words ring in my ears.  “You’ve never met a prostitute, an addict, a person who is homeless and desperate.”

I tried to argue.  “I…” 

“I don’t mean when you volunteered at the shelter.  I mean getting to know them.  Being in their world.  Talking to them, learning about them.”  Before I can even open my mouth, my uncle continued.  “Jesus broke bread with sinners.  Why are you better than him?” 

She knocks on the window, and I turn toward her.  Her breasts are framed and not hidden by the white shirt, her cleavage emphasized by the hot pink bra.  She points down.  I inhale a shaky breath, and hit the button.  She leans forward and I get an eyeful of her chest, young tanned skin full of freckles and beauty marks. 

“You looking for a good time mate?”  Her accent is New York through and through, so why the use of the word _mate_?  It’s confusing. 

So confusing that for a moment I don’t understand what she’s asking me. 

“Oh…” I huff.  “Um…” 

“It’s twenty for a hand job, fifty for a bj, a hundred for front, one fifty for back door action.”  She says it all very casually, as if she’s talking about food on a menu and not sexual acts. 

My eyes linger on the hot pink bra a little too long.  I turn away from her again.  I try to slow my heartbeat, which is suddenly pounding in my ears.  My hands are shaking as I grip the steering wheel.  I can’t look at her. 

_Jesus had the woman who sinned anoint his feet._

I hear it in my head in my uncle’s voice.  But he didn’t say that to me.  It’s not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me.  I take it as a sign. 

“How much for the night?”  I ask uneasily.  

“A thousand,” she answers quickly.  I wonder if she came to that price because of my car.  The thought is quickly swept away when she says, “I’m giving you a discount because you’re so fit.” 

Fit?  Is that another British word thrown into conversation? 

I unlock the door, and she climbs in before I can even ask her to.  She quickly rolls up the window. 

“It’s hot as balls out there.  Your air conditioner feels incredible.”  She leans forward and tips her head back, allowing the cool air to blow over her skin and through her hair. 

This is a mistake.  I don’t have a thousand dollars in cash sitting around.  I don’t know where to spend the night with a hooker.  She glances over at me and smiles, a look of sheer enjoyment on her face.  She looks like she hasn’t eaten a good meal in days. 

“Where are you taking me, handsome?”  She says it so easily, with a cute fake smile. 

I shake my head.  I know I’m not.  I know I’m awkward and gangly.  I know I’m too tall, too big.  My ears and nose are huge, my face is too angular.  I know she’s trying to seduce me, trying to make me feel at ease.  But she’s already in my car, she doesn’t need to flatter me. 

A car honks behind me.  I’m surprised it took this long.  It’s after ten on a Thursday night, but it’s still New York.  I take my foot off the brake, and drive. 

 

 


	2. I Feel My Heart Underneath My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little more about our hero, Ben Skywalker Naberrie Organa Solo.

I drove through an ATM and withdrew the money she requested, and somehow she shoved the huge wad into her purse.  Yea I thought about it before and afterward.  She probably saw my bank balance which has an embarrassing amount of numbers for a priest.  I give some of it away to charity, but more always comes.  It’s interest on investments my mother’s financial planner made when I was a baby, and payments for trust funds her adopted father and his family created for me, and so many other sources of income it makes my head spin. 

She could pull a knife out of her tiny little white purse at any time and rob me.  Not that I would put up a fight. 

I googled the most luxurious hotel in Brooklyn, honestly not expecting much, but I found one near the Brooklyn Bridge that was nearly five hundred a night.  If I’m going to give her a night in a hotel it might as well be a nice one. 

Now we’re walking toward the entrance, a respectable distance apart, when she walks toward the clear sculpture near the entrance. 

“Pretty,” she says, as she reaches out to touch it.  Her face changes in that moment.  She’s not a hooker trying to seduce, she’s a young woman finding pleasure in a piece of art. 

I don’t want to think about just how young she is. 

She glances around her, and does something I’m not expecting.  She unties the shirt and buttons it up until the bra is no longer visible.  Then she tucks it into the white skirt, and tugs it down until it hits at the middle of her thighs.  In that minute she transforms herself from a street walker to what could pass for an office assistant or college student.  It took her no time at all to assess and adapt to her surroundings.  And I’m stunned. 

Her solid white outfit counters my summer weight black pants and long sleeve black shirt.  I left the collar in my apartment.  That’s probably the best decision I made all night.  As we walk toward the entrance I catch our reflections in the doors. 

She’s light, airy, happy looking with her thick hair bouncing around her shoulders and a mischievous expression in her dazzling eyes.  I’m dark and brooding, even to my own eyes. 

As the doors slide open she grabs my hand, casually as if we’re dating and it happens all the time.  I allow her small slender fingers to weave their way into mine. 

I’ve stayed in hotels before, but I’ve never done so with a female.  And I’m more nervous than I should be.  The man behind the desk doesn’t comment on my last name, or the fact that neither of us have suitcases.  He doesn’t question the reason we’re walking off the street in the middle of the night, or why I asked for the nicest room available.  When he does look at the two of us, she gently slides her free hand onto my elbow, and grins up at me.  He hides a smile, as if we’re lovers on a midweek getaway. 

“Your keys,” he says, as he presents them to us.  “Would you like champagne delivered to your room?” 

“N--,” I begin.

“Yes,” she says happily.  The man’s eyes question me.  I am the one who handed over my credit card.  I glance down at her, and her eyes are dancing. 

“Dom Perignon please,” I say.  He nods at my good taste.  It’s my mom’s favorite after all, although I’ve never had any.  Not even when she ordered it to toast my college graduation. 

“And we’d like a room service menu,” she continues sweetly. 

“There is one in your room by your phone,” he assures her. 

“Thanks,” I reply as I gather our keys. 

She strides confidently beside me, our hands still together.  We make our way to the elevator, she pushes the button, and when the doors close she observes us side by side in the mirrored doors.  She grins at the image.  I wonder if it’s the size difference.  Even with her high heels she barely reaches my shoulder.  I try to pull my hand away because no one is watching now but us.  She refuses though, holding on to me tighter. 

“I’m going to enjoy you,” she says, and as the doors open I think she’s staring at my crotch. 

My shoulders shake.  This is not right.  This is not what I should be doing, I tell myself.  But she eagerly walks down the hallway, and finds the room. 

She opens her free hand, and I reflexively place a key in it.  She opens the door, and her eyes grow wide as she sees the room.  The curtains are open, and there’s a balcony looking out over the most beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline I’ve ever seen.  The entire city is lit up like a multitude of sparkling jewels. 

I hear her gasp.  “Who knew something so evil could look so magical?” 

Evil?  I wouldn’t characterize the entire city as evil.  Maybe some people act in ways counter to God’s word, but I wouldn’t call them evil. 

Looking down at this beautiful creature as she kicks off her shoes and floats toward the sliding glass doors, I would not say she is evil.  Misguided perhaps, immoral maybe, but not malicious. 

She passes the pale couch with the multitude of colorful pillows.  She ignores the huge TV, and the compelling artwork on the walls.  She’s focused on the balcony, and as soon as the door is open her entire countenance changes.  She seems happy and younger, innocent in her white clothing, as she grins at the breathtaking view in front of her. 

I walk toward her, compelled by her beauty.  But I stop at the threshold, and lean against it.  I tear my eyes from her, and gaze at the skyline.  She is right, in a way.  The beauty of the city masks a lot of bad stuff.  I still wouldn’t say the city is evil, but there is a lot that can be improved upon.  My family, adopted and biological, has worked faithfully and tirelessly to help the people of the NYC. 

She won’t know that.  I won’t tell her who I am, that I’m a priest.  To her I’m just another john, a man with too much money and a desire to objectify a young woman.  She must hear me because she glances over her shoulder.  She smiles, and turns slightly before she begins to unbutton her shirt. 

“No,” I say a little too quickly.  A sculpted brow quirks upward in a question.  _No_?  I shake my head in confirmation. 

She gives me a shoulder shrug.  “Maybe you like to unwrap your present yourself.” 

I walk toward her and she smiles as she reaches out her hands for me.  I again shake my head.  “I’d like to just talk.  Is that okay?” 

This time her brows go down, meeting at the bridge of her nose.  She’s so expressive it sends tingles down my spine.  Her eyes travel over my face slowly, taking in the many marks and spots before resting on the scar.  I instinctively look down, before turning my face to the side. 

“How did you?” she murmurs, as one hand moves through the air toward my face, as if to touch it. 

I quickly catch her wrist and turn my head as I usually do when people stare.  I swipe my free hand through my too long hair, trying to hide the damaged skin.  As if I wasn’t already ugly enough before the scar, as if my ears didn’t draw too much attention, as the teasing of my classmates attested to, God decided to make my face even worse. 

“It was an accident,” I tell her.  My father was driving too fast, showing off in his new sports car, and lost control.  It was a blessing I didn’t lose my eye, my uncle told me while I was still in the hospital recovering.  I almost wish I’d lost both of my eyes so I’d never have to see how horrific I look.  I never trusted my father after that.  If I’m being honest with myself I hated him.  It was an accident, but it was preventable.  I was fourteen and disfigured for the rest of my life because of his vanity and stupidity.  Several surgeons have tried to fix it, but it’s still very prominent. And I just have to live with it.

She pulls her hand away and I let go.  I expect her to step away, but she doesn’t.  She moves closer.  My heart begins to pound in my chest.  It’s the closest I’ve ever been to a girl, alone anyway. 

“What’s your –“ she starts. 

There’s a knock at the door, and I jump back as if caught doing something wrong. 

“The champagne,” she says, after a moment. 

I nod, still not looking at her.  I walk toward the door, glad to be moving away from her.  She made me feel something, something I don’t understand.

This was a mistake. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Kind words and kudos are ALWAYS appreciated!


	3. I'm A Dream That Died By Light Of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drinking game of twenty questions, and they learn more about each other.

I handed the bellhop a twenty and asked him to open the bottle.  I’ve never done it, and I’ll be damned if I look any more like an idiot around this young woman.  I haven’t even asked her name.  Sure, I’m not objectifying her or anything. 

She’s sipping her glass of champagne as she studies the menu.  “I’m starving!  I want one of everything,” she exclaims.  She looks like she’s starving, but I don’t say it.  She looks like could eat all of it and still need more.  There is so much I want to ask her, that I want to know.  But I sit silently and watch her.  She takes another drink, and notices my glass is sitting on the table.  “You’re not drinking?” 

“I don’t drink,” I inform her. 

“Recovering alcoholic?” she continues, as if it’s strange that I’m not drinking. 

“No.  I’ve never had alcohol,” I inform her. 

“Oh.”  She almost sneers it.  Her scorn is evident.  “One of _those_.” 

I sigh, but I don’t ask what she means.  I’m sure by her tone, whatever she’s thinking it’s not good.  So instead of getting into a long drawn out philosophical discussion I say, “Order whatever you want.” 

Her face immediately lights up.  “Really?” 

“Sure,” I say with a shrug.  What am I going to do will all of my money?  Add another wing to the hospital my mother supports.  It should already be named after her, as much money as she has sunk into it. 

She picks up the phone on the desk, and as if to challenge me she says, “I’d like two steaks medium well, a baked potato, a baked sweet potato, corn soufflé, asparagus, rice, and chocolate cake.  Oh, and another bottle of Dom Perignon please.” 

Her expression shows me she wants me to comment.  I merely shrug and say, “Good choices.” 

“I hope so,” she replies, and stretches out on the couch. 

I’m sitting in the chair across from her.  We’re in a corner suite and she has both of the doors wide open.  She’s luxuriating in the cool breeze coming in, probably from being right on the river combined with the height.  We are twenty three floors up. 

“What’s your name?” I finally ask, since she looks comfortable, and dare I say compliant. 

“Hope,” she replies too quickly, with just a touch of attitude in her tone.  Her eyes sparkle, and her cheeks turn pink. 

“That’s not your real name,” I say.  My tone is dark to my own ears.  I’m calling her out on a lie, without any facts that she really is lying. 

But she grins, and wrinkles up her nose.  “Guess I’m not as good an actress as I thought.” 

“No.”  I don’t even know how I knew she was lying.  It was just a hunch.  Wasn’t it? 

“If you want the truth, you’re going to have to drink,” she challenges, and tips her glass toward its twin sitting on the table. 

I take in a deep breath.  One glass of wine isn’t going to kill me.  I grab it, eye it before glancing at her, and down it in one gulp.  The aftertaste is fruity, and bubbly.  It’s not horrible.  She giggles, heady with power from her small victory. 

“Rey,” she says. 

“Rey,” I echo.  The word rings in my head.  Rey.  I know that name.  Where do I know that name?  It’s right at the edge of my mind. 

“What’s your name?” she asks, as she refills my glass. 

“Kylo.”  The lie slips out easily.  It’s my D&D character’s name.  I’m an epic level half-orc half-human Paladin.  Yea I know, I’m totally cool like that. 

“That’s a lie,” she informs me.  I shrug.  “If you tell me the truth I’ll take off my shirt.”  She says it playfully.  But it makes me uneasy that she uses her sexuality so indifferently. 

“I’ve already paid for that,” I remind her.  It comes out so easily it almost scares me.  Am I that guy? 

“You’re right.”  She stands up, chin high and fake smile plastered on her pretty face, and begins to unbutton the shirt. 

“No, don’t.  You don’t have to,” I exclaim, but she doesn’t stop.  The shirt is removed and thrown on the end of the couch.  I keep my eyes on it.  I don’t want to look at her in just a bra. 

She stands there for several moments, as far as I can tell by only hearing her movements.  Then she throws herself back on the couch mumbling, “Your loss.” 

“Why are you…” I start.  Then I stop myself.  Is that too intimate?  Do I deserve to know?  Should the _why_ matter that much? 

“A prostitute?” she finishes.  I’m still not looking at her, but I nod.  “Money of course.  Money is the root of all evil, but no one is giving it away.” 

“Money is the reason why most people work.  Why did you choose to…”  I can’t even say any of the words that would apply here.  I can’t spend time with this truly lovely young woman and wrap my head around the idea that she sells her body. 

“Become a sex worker?”  Her voice is softer, gentler. 

It draws my attention, and I’m greeted by her wildly attractive self in a hot pink bra.  I can’t deny the effect her youth and beauty have on me.  My erection is trying to bust through my black trousers.  Sure I’ve been attracted to women, I am only human.  I haven’t had to worry much about physical intimacy with anyone other than my hand, because of my looks.  The scar doesn’t help matters either.  So here I am, esteemed, trusted Father Ben Solo alone in a hotel room with a young woman I am so attracted to my erection physically hurts.  How did I get myself into this again?

“If you want the real reason you have to drink.”  She’s teasing me with her voice and tormenting me with her actions.  Her hand moves up to her neck, then down over her chest.  I take the glass and chug it down, mostly to get her to stop.  She chuckles again, finding my sin entertaining. 

“I was passed around from group home to foster family more times than I can count.” 

Oh hell.  It’s _her_.  The drop of golden sun.  The little girl with the freckles and the missing teeth and the big bright eyes.  She was placed in the orphanage my uncle supervised.  I wanted to bring her home.  I begged my parents to let me keep her.  She was six and I was fourteen.  I protected her, stood up to the older kids who bullied her.  She told me one of the older kids had tried to touch her, and I went straight to Uncle Luke.  He sent the older kid to juvenile detention for a while, but they couldn’t keep him.  He returned to the group home.  I warned him that if he ever touched her again, he’d answer to me.  Then the accident happened.  I spent time in the hospital.  Then I withdrew into myself.  When I asked Uncle Luke about Rey he said she’d found a foster home.  I never checked up on her.  I was too self-absorbed.  Maybe if I’d forced my parents to take her, she wouldn’t be hooker.  She’d be in college. 

I should have helped her.  I could have changed her life. 

“When I was ten, a boyfriend of a foster mother raped me.  When I was fourteen I had an abortion.  After that I had an IUD implanted.  When I was eighteen I aged out.  I met Poe, and he thought I’d make a lot of money turning tricks.  I have.”  She says it all so matter-of-factly, as if she’s numb to the pain. 

And every word is a knife in my heart. 

“Poe?”  That name sounds familiar too.  _Hell_.  “Was he a foster kid too?” 

“Umhmmm,” she says.  “You have to drink.”  She empties the bottle in my glass, and I gulp it down. 

Poe was the one I sent to juvenile detention.

We hear a knock, and she jumps up to answer the door when the waiter calls out, “Room service.” 

“We’re probably gonna need another bottle of Dom,” she says as she opens the door.  I slip the man a twenty, sign the slip, and ask him to please bring another bottle up to the room. 

He carts the platter of food into the room, and places it on the small table by the open glass door. 

She takes a seat and opens the cover.  She smiles and exclaims, “It all smells soooo good!  I’m starving.”  She’s practically forgotten the story she told me.  But I don’t think I ever will. 

My head feels light, fuzzy.  It’s probably the champagne.  It’s a nice feeling of weightlessness, like floating in artificial gravity. 

If I’d known, maybe I wouldn’t have turned it down. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kind words and kudos are appreciated!


	4. 'Cause You Make Me Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here are these two idiots.

She’s slipped out of the skirt, and she’s only wearing the bra and panties.  I have no idea when that happened.  I’ve been trying to not stare at her, but her eyes sparkle so brightly, and her grin is so sweet with those dimples, and her lips are so glossy and look as delicious and ripe as berries.  I have to steal glances and every time I do I get harder. 

She’s eaten all of one steak and most of the second, the only thing left of the potatoes is the skins, and she’s slowly eating the cake with another glass of champagne.  And the noises she’s making as she eats are practically immoral.  The pleasure pouring out of her makes my lips quiver. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” she asked me at least a dozen times.  I was too busy watching the pure joy that spread over her face and slipped past her lips. 

Now she holds a forkful of the most delicious looking chocolate cake out to me, leaning forward so that her entire upper body is expanded and on full display, and says, “Don’t you want to try it?” 

I’ve never wanted to try it more than I want to with her.  I don’t mean the cake, and neither does she.  Somehow I keep myself under control.  “No, thank you.” 

“You have no idea what you’re missing.  It’s so good,” she tells me, with a delectable glimmer in her eyes. 

There’s only one way to distract myself from the desire coursing through my veins.  “You aren’t responsible for what they did to you.  You know that right?  You hold no shame for their decisions.  Their sin is not your sin.”  I probably shouldn’t have used the word _sin_.  She immediately gets this look on her face and rolls her eyes. 

“You are a do-gooder!” she screeches loudly.  She holds the cake on the fork like a weapon, prepared to fling it at me.  I have a feeling I will have to leave a huge tip for housekeeping. 

“What’s wrong with doing good?” I counter.  She scoffs and shakes her head, but relents and eats the cake.  “You don’t have to sell your body.”  I guess I’m determined to push the topic, no matter how she reacts.  She’s had a good meal, she made some money, and she didn’t have to sell herself.  What’s the worst she can do?  Leave? 

“Maybe I like it,” she retorts.  It’s my turn to shake my head.  “Maybe I get off on the fact that men pay me for my body.”  She pushes away from the table, leaving half of the cake, and stands to sashay toward me like a model on a catwalk.  “Maybe I feel powerful when men pay a thousand dollars to spend the night with me.” 

“But it’s not what you want to do, is it?” I counter, staring right into her eyes.  I see an emotion pop in, but fade away just as quickly. 

“You have to drink again,” she reminds me of the rules, as she finishes off the second bottle in my glass. 

I drink it, and feel the sensation of the bubbles and the alcohol flit slowly into my brain.  I shake my head to try to clear the fog that’s descended inside it.

“I wanted to go to college just like every other girl.  I hoped I’d meet some big strapping man who could protect me, with an even bigger bank account so he could take care of me.” 

When she says this she stops right in front of me.  I’m sitting in the chair with my legs together, mainly trying to hide my erection.  She spreads her legs, straddling my thighs, and sits her round bottom down on my knees. 

My immediate reaction is to recoil.  I turn my head and close my eyes, and put my hands out to shield myself from her.  My fingertips brush against skin, I’m not looking so I don’t know where, and I flinch and shiver at the same time. 

“Don’t,” I murmur.  She giggles, and the sound is faint as if she’s not letting it past her throat.  But she’s so close I still hear it.  “Please,” I beg, I whimper. 

I’m pleading with her to stop her teasing, because I’m not sure I can stop myself. 

Since my eyes are closed I don’t know that it’s going to happen, and I jump when I feel her fingers combing through my hair.  I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, and try to hold in the moan that’s forming in my chest. 

“I’ve been waiting all night for this, to see if your hair is as soft as it looks.”  Her face is so near to mine I’m sure her nose is almost touching my cheek.  She smells like chocolate and champagne.  And the slight weight of her on my lap, her soft rear perched on my knees, feels like guilt and shame mixed with desire.  Her breath is against my ear when she says, “It’s even softer than I imagined.” 

My entire body is shaking now, so hard I’m sure she feels it. 

“Meeting a man like that who might actually want me back doesn’t happen to girls like me.”  I feel her nose nuzzle against the long hair at my temple, as if she’s smelling me. 

I groan, and grip my hands into fists so tightly I feel my short fingernails digging into my palms.  She’s so wrong.  I want her so badly.  So damn badly.  But I can’t. 

“Rey I…“ I start, but she makes a shhhhhh sound against my ear and every inch of my body tingles. 

“Why don’t you touch me Kylo.  I know you want to,” she murmurs.  She’s slipped into the full British accent I remember from when she was a kid, and it’s glorious anguish. 

I turn toward her mouth instinctively, with my eyes closed and my lips parted.  One kiss won’t send me to hell.  God can forgive one kiss from Rey.  _My Rey_.  My sweet perfect drop of sunshine. 

Her lips skim mine, and a sigh escapes between our mouths.  Somehow she flexes her hips and slides down my legs, our crotches crashing together as if they were made to fit each others'.  My hips shove upward, and my hands spread open around her waist to find her lower back.  I shove downward, pushing her closer.  My fingertips ghost over the elastic band of her lacy panties. 

I don’t know if this is heaven or hell.  I don’t know if her being the Rey from my childhood makes this better or worse.  I just know when her tongue flicks against my bottom lip it feels right.  My lips part a little more, and her tongue dips inside my mouth.  My penis rubs along the heat of her center, and it’s agony and ecstasy. 

It is everything I’ve always wanted, and something I can never have. 

Just as my hands move upward, over her tiny waist toward her rib cage, toward her breasts, there’s another knock on the door.

I jump and try to pull away, but my back is against the chair and she is melded against my front.  I can’t get away.  She chuckles low in her throat, and unfolds herself out of my lap slowly like a lazy kitten. 

“That’s probably my bottle of wine,” she murmurs in her NYC accent, and turns away to strut toward the door in just her underwear.  Her pert little bottom bounces as she prances away from me like a victor.  She won that battle, and she knows it. 

I have to get a grip on myself. 

No more champagne. 

No more kissing. 

No more looking at her adorable ass. 

No more mental swearing. 

And absolutely no more temptation. 

The waiter is now staring at Rey like her partial nudity is a prize for all of his trouble.  I’ve given him forty dollars, is that not enough?  Does he want her modesty too? 

She isn’t looking at him.  She’s trying to gauge my reaction.  She wants me to be jealous.  I frown and look away, trying to hide my scar with my hair.  She takes the receipt and writes another twenty dollar tip on it before presenting it to me.  I sign my name as I hear the cork pop.  I try not to stare at her toned, tanned thighs. 

This was a mistake.  This was an utter lapse of judgement.  And if it wasn’t for Bishop Luke Skywalker, none of this would have happened. 

“Thank you.  See yourself out,” she says to the waiter as she extends her hand to give him the ticket without looking at him.  When she hears the door close she bends down in front of me and places her small hands on my knees.  “You don’t have to be ashamed of your looks, you know.  The scar isn’t nearly as prominent as your beautiful brown eyes and your plush lips.”  When I scoff and tip my head away from her she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth.  “For a big man with a big bank account and an even bigger cock, you have absolutely no confidence.  Who hurt you Kylo?”

I part my lips to say my parents.  My father put me in the hospital, but my mother didn’t have much time for me.  She was busy, I know, but I needed her. 

The reason she wouldn’t let me have Rey was because she didn’t have the time to raise a small child.  I told her I’d take care of her.  I said we could have a nanny again.  She scoffed and reminded me I’d ran off the last three. 

I still can’t believe she’s here now.  I shouldn’t want her like this.  I shouldn’t want her this much, but I do.  Damn it I do. 

“Tell me or take a drink,” she says, and tips her hips back to stand.  It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, the way she moves. 

“That wasn’t the rule,” I counter harshly. 

“Rules change Kylo.  And we have to learn to live with that.”  She exhales loudly and steps away.  When she returns she has a glass of wine in each hand, and she’s wearing a fuzzy white bathrobe.  It was probably in the bathroom.  I have no idea how much that will cost. 

I take a drink of the wine, even though I know I don’t have to.  I know I _shouldn’t_.  But remembering the past is painful, and the wine takes some of the pain away. 

“I’ve been hurt, but not like you have Rey.  My scar might be on the outside, but you have scars on the inside.  I think yours might be worse.” 

She sits down on the floor, right by my feet, and lays her cheek against my knee.  “I think we’ve both been hurt,” she says, before she takes another drink. 

She’s probably right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind words and kudos feed the writer! Don't forget to leave them for me!


	5. If We've Only Got This Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben deals with the morning after...
> 
> *** Per a reader's comments, I've decided to change the other female character to Rose. (And rewrite a bit) My intention in writing this chapter was not to create a love triangle or to add in a touch of jealousy. My intent was to show that in order to show compassion, or empathy, a person should experience the emotion as well. Ben has been a self-imposed hermit, because of his parents emotional distance and his physical scars. He can be empathetic only if he has experienced a bit of desire himself. I hope this clears up any confusion. ***

 

My head is pounding with the beat of the phone ringing.  I shove my hand in my pants pocket and realize that it’s not my cell phone that's ringing.  I open my eyes and look around.  It’s all coming back to me slowly, the hotel room and the champagne. 

 _Rey_. 

“Rey?” I call out, but I don’t see her or hear her.  And the phone won’t stop ringing.  Maybe she’s asleep in the bed.  I pull myself out of the chair that I slept in, wearing my clothes, and look for her in the bedroom.  She’s not there.  I grab the phone sitting on the desk and mumble, “Hello?” 

I hear an automated voice on the other end.  “This is your six o’clock wake up call for…” 

The sentence is finished in Rey’s voice.  “Father Ben Solo.” 

I instinctively reach into my back pocket for my wallet, and of course it’s not there.  “Frag!” I yell. 

“Father Ben Solo,” repeats over the phone, in her sweet voice. 

Well, she knows the truth.  And she has my cash, debit card, credit card, and my identification.  It’s hard to tell what she might do with it.  I obviously have to cancel it all. 

I hang up the phone, and a piece of paper catches my eye.  On the hotel's stationary is a hand written note, in the worst penmanship I’ve ever seen for a girl. 

**_I’m not a charity case._ **

At the bottom of the page is my wallet.  It’s open, and my ID is right there, along with my celebret card proclaiming I am an actual priest. 

“Frag!” I cry out again, this time a little louder.  At least my wallet is still here.  I don’t have to call and cancel anything, or get anything remade.  My money is gone but the important stuff is here.  My phone is still here.  I’m alive. 

But how did it happen?  The last thing I remember is Rey handing me the glass of champagne, and I didn’t hesitate.  I just drank it.  She probably drugged me.  Then she robbed me.  _Rey_.  My Rey.  The sweet innocent girl with the adorable British accent and the slight lisp because of her missing front teeth.  I was always so lonely, I wanted a sibling so badly.  And then she came along, and she was as sad and alone as I felt.  And she always wanted to be with me.  Whatever I was doing, whether I was helping clean up in the kitchen or kicking a soccer ball with the other kids she was always right there. 

And now she’s gone.  I’m alone again. She didn't have to drug me and run.  She could have had the money.  I would have given it to her. 

My phone buzzes.  I grab it out of my pocket quickly, hoping and praying it might be Rey.  But of course it isn’t. 

**_Hey where are you?  I need you to cover confessional today.  Mrs. McDougall is in the hospital again._ **

Frag, it’s my uncle.  Of course he would knock on my apartment door the one morning I’m out all night with a woman.  A _hooker_ even.  I didn’t do anything with her, I remind myself.  She kissed me, yes.  I touched her, a little.  But I don’t think I’ll be condemned for that.  I’ll confess and do my penance.

Oh Holy Mary, I’ll have to confess to my uncle that I spent the night with a woman.  With Rey. 

I grab my wallet and keys, thank God they’re still in my pocket, and leave the room quickly.  I’m walking down the hallway while texting Luke. 

**_I’ll be there soon.  I just went out for_ **

Oh frag, what excuse can I give that I’m not in my room this early in the morning?  I usually go for a run in the evening. 

**_coffee.  I’ll be back soon._ **

I finish, and send it.  Great, now I’ll have to confess to lying too.  Wouldn’t it just be easier to tell the truth? 

 

*****

 

Luke glares at me when I enter the rectory.  At least I look somewhat decent, although I need a shave.  I should have brushed my teeth at the hotel, but I didn’t think of any of that stuff.  I just thought about trying not to get caught.  But that’s ridiculous because I’ll end up telling Luke anyway.  Just not today. 

“Well you look like crap,” he says as he looks me over. 

“I thought you were going to the hospital,” I snap as I walk toward the coffee pot.  My head is still pounding, and I hope coffee will help. 

He looks me over, his keen blue eyes scouring my face and clothes for any hint of impropriety.  If he only knew.  “I’m headed out the door now.  Just wanted to make sure everything was okay with you.  It seems odd that you’d be out at that hour.” 

I hide my face with my hair, which I’ve gotten very good at.  But instead of hiding my scar, I'm trying to hide my own shame. “Everything is fine.  I’ll tell you all about it later.  You go to the hospital, I’ll go to the confessional.” 

He gives me one more good stare as if he knows something is wrong but can't place what it is, then heads out the door. I take another drink of my coffee, then walk toward the back corner of the church.  And who do I find waiting by the booth, but Rose.  She smiles when she sees me, and I shiver and look away. 

Rose is young, and experiencing her first real crush. I try to be sympathetic, because I've learned that some people can form real emotional attachments to their clergy and confuse it with love. But I'm not the best person to sympathize with a crush... until now. Until _Rey._

I take a moment to say a quick prayer as I close the curtain.  _God, give me the strength to deal with this today._

I hear her enter but can’t see her through the screened wall separating us.  “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.  It’s been three days since my last confession,” she says, her perky voice dripping with emotion. 

“Unburden yourself my child, and find comfort in God’s forgiveness,” I say, as I always do. 

“You’re literally like five years older than me.  I’m not a child,” she reminds me, with a little too much sass. 

“We are all God’s children,” I point out.  “Is there something you would like to confess?”

“I’ve been having lewd thoughts about a priest,” she says. 

My heart drops.  Any other day this would be the same old banter from Rose.  But today is different.  I’ve felt an awakening, in my emotions and in my body.  Being with Rey last night has given me a new appreciation for our body’s physical needs.  I was reminded of it during the drive back to Manhattan.  I’ve had a taste of Rey, of how exciting physical intimacy can be, and I want so much more.  I have a new empathy for the feeling of lust my parishioners experience. 

“We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t experience those feelings.  It’s okay to ask for forgiveness.”  I try to keep my voice soft and gentle, to sound sympathetic. 

She takes a deep breath, and says lightly, “I have these thoughts about you, Ben.  I think about you all the time. Since we were in school together, I wanted to be with you.” 

This isn’t new.  She’s been confessing her feelings to me for a year.  But I didn’t understand exactly how she felt until today.  Until Rey. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to confess?” I try to distract her from her narrative.  Sometimes she rambles.  I can’t handle that today. 

“No Father,” she replies, after several moments of thought. 

“Say ten Hail Marys, five Our Fathers, and go with the knowledge that God forgives.” 

“Yes thank you Father,” she mumbles.

"I'm sure you'll find the right man for you, Rose. You'll find someone who will love you for the beautiful, amazing woman you are. He's out there somewhere." The last thing I want to do is discourage her. I know if she starts looking for someone else, someone who isn't her priest, she'll find the right guy.

"Thanks Ben," she says softly before she exits the booth.  Her lifelong conditioning to leave at the end of confession wins out over her desire to bait me into playing along with her fantasy. 

Now I have several minutes of silence to think about how my own emotions are brewing inside me.  This is probably the perfect, or worst, time and place to contemplate everything that happened last night.  I used to think that Rose was exaggerating, that she couldn’t really think about me all the time.  But I understand now.  Rey has been present in my mind since I woke up in that hotel room.  It’s wonderful and scary to have someone so beautiful and magnetic in your head.

_Forgive me Father, but I want Rey in every way I shouldn't._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind words! :)


	6. Under This Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben admits the truth to Luke, and confesses...
> 
> And Luke?
> 
> He doesn't take it well...

  

I thought about Rey as I met with the ladies’ committee to discuss Advent and Christmas.  Yes it’s the middle of summer but Christmas in a Catholic Church doesn’t just happen.  I thought about Rey’s soul as I performed the noon mass.  I thought about Rey as I performed the Novena Prayers to Saint Elizabeth Ann Seaton, and how Rey’s life would have been different if my family had brought her into their home like Saint Elizabeth had done for so many young children.  I thought of Rey as I led a small group in praying the Rosary.  One of the older ladies said she comes just to hear me say the prayers, because she likes my voice.  I like that my voice brings people to my church.  That’s not vanity, that’s God working through me.  I wonder if Rey liked my voice.

At 4:30 Luke and I met unintentionally in the parish office.  His eyes meet mine and I know that I have to confess what I’ve done.  “Can I meet with you before vespers?” I asked.  I didn’t need to say anything else.  He knew that something’s wrong, I could see it in the way he looked at me. 

“Sure kid,” he said with a solemn nod. 

Now I’m sitting in the front pew waiting on my Uncle who is also a bishop and the likely next archbishop.  I have a Rosary in hand, the one that belonged to my grandfather.  I feel like I need him with me now.  I never knew him, he died before my mother and uncle were born.  But I think if anyone would have advice about falling in love after devoting your life to the church, it would be him.  He was a priest when he met my grandmother, who had already joined a convent when they met. 

Maybe Anakin wouldn’t be the best person to give me advice right now.  That story ended in tragedy. 

“So, what’s bothering you kid?”  Luke startles me with his question.  I was so deep in thought I didn’t even notice he’d sat down in the pew behind me. 

“I need to confess something.”  I don’t turn around to face him, but I don’t really have to.  The priest doesn’t need to know who I am for me to be absolved.  But in this case of course he knows who I am.  I still need to confess, might as well be to my uncle. 

“What happened Ben?”  He sounds unsure, as if he would think something bad happened to me, instead of me doing something bad. He must have a lot of faith in me.

“I accuse myself of the following sins.  I kissed a woman.  I have had im-“

“Wait.  What?” Luke exclaims, a little too loudly.  A woman a few aisles back actually shushes him.  “You did what?  When?”

“Let me confess, then I’ll explain,” I whisper.  I’m sure he hears me though.  He’s probably sitting forward, listening closely to every word. 

“I have had impure thoughts.  I would have acted on them, too.  Probably.  And I’ve had not so impure thoughts about the same woman.  Actually, I’ve thought about her all day.”  Not that I hope to get any advice from a priest, especially not Luke Skywalker who is the most pure asexual person I've ever met, but maybe saying it out loud can help me process it.  

He is silent for several moments, as if he’s considering what I’ve said.  Finally he speaks, and it hits me right in the heart.  “And you are contrite, my child?” 

Am I remorseful?  Am I sorry for what happened with Rey?  I’m sorry I didn’t help her more when she was younger.  She was six, and so trusting, and in a place where she was prone to be taken advantage of.  I know that Luke tried to do his best to protect and look after the kids under his care, but stuff happens.  Not every sin can be stopped or prevented.  One of God’s gifts to every human was free will, but some of us use that gift to hurt others.  It’s not what God wants, but we are only human after all. 

“It was Rey,” I say, as if that explains everything.  I’m fairly certain he won’t remember her.  I’m sure she’s only one of hundreds of children who have passed through his care. 

“Rey?”  His voice is deeper than usual, not holding the compassion he usually uses with his flock.  “The little girl from the orphanage?”  I look over my shoulder and find his expression puzzled. 

“Yes.  You told me to go out among the people.  And last night I drove to Bed-Stuy.  And I ran into her.”  Almost literally but I don't tell him that.  “And I wanted to get to know her like you said, so I rented a hotel room.”

He holds up his hand, and his faded blue eyes are laser focused on something in front of him.  I follow his gaze and find the image of the crucified Christ.  “Wait.  You spent the night with Rey?  Rey Johnson?” 

“You know that’s not her name,” I counter quietly.  I did some research after I turned twenty-one, and found her and her mother’s immigration records.  I know who she was before her mother died.  And so does Luke. 

“I can’t believe you two found each other…”  His words trail off.  His gaze is unfocused.  It’s as if he’s confused, not angry or embarrassed. 

“I was driving down the street and she is a…”  I stop immediately, and think about what he said.  “Found each other?” 

“What?” he asks.  When his eyes meet mine again he looks like he doesn’t know what I mean.  As if he doesn’t know what he said. 

“You said you can’t believe we found each other.  What did you mean?”  I hear my voice go dark, harsh.  I feel like I’m falling into something I don’t understand.  I feel my vision going dark, and my chest feels like it’s burning.  I feel like I’ve been tossed into a vacuum, like there’s suddenly no air. 

“Ben, you have to know…”  I hear the sounds of people filing into the nave, before he stops talking and looks around.  He doesn’t look at me again.  He’s hiding something, and I have no idea what it is.  Except that it’s something I should know, that he should have already told me. 

“We’ll talk about this after vespers,” he says as he stands to walk toward the altar.  He still performs evening mass, for the other priests of the archdiocese and the public.  I have a feeling he’ll still say mass in this church even after he becomes archbishop.  This is the church where he found his sister after all. 

I look down at the rosary I’m holding, and think about what happened to bring him into the world.  A priest fell in love with an initiate nun, got her pregnant, and had to marry her.  It’s a tragedy in more ways than the obvious, but only because they didn’t live happily ever after.  Maybe Rey and I can…

“We request God’s presence, and the presence of his blessed Son.  Oh God, come to our aid.”  It’s the traditional beginning of the evening prayer.  Except…

His eyes are on me, before he looks away. 

And I feel like he’s hiding something from me.  Something momentous. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to leave this here


	7. Under This Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order lemons?

 

 

Of course the archbishop would approach Luke right after Vespers.  Of course I can’t interrogate him on what he meant.  _I can’t believe you two found each other._   That’s not an accident or a slip of the tongue.  That’s an intentional statement. 

I am deep in thought, practically hypnotized by the rhythm of my feet hitting the sidewalk as I jog.  And all my thoughts circle around to Rey. 

After fourteen years he remembered who she was without any prompting.  He consciously thought of us being separated.  He looked like he didn’t know what to say, or even what to think.  Except he was certain who _Rey_ was. 

I can’t stop thinking about the way she propped herself up on my knees, and slid into my lap.  I’ve never been that close to a woman.  Her skin felt so fucking soft and warm.  Her eyes sparkled like twin suns as she stared at me.  She _wanted_ to touch me, to run her fingers through my hair. 

She didn’t have to do that.  She could have just drugged me at the first glass of champagne.  But she didn’t.  She wanted to talk to me.  She wanted to sit on my lap.  She wanted to kiss me. 

I miss a step and nearly fall.  I wonder if deep down she remembered me, if she knows who I am.  I wonder if she’s drawn to me the same way I’m drawn to her. 

I wonder what she’s doing right now.  I jog back to the church, determined to shower, dress, and jump into my car.  Maybe I’ll get lucky and see her again.  Or maybe I’ll get carjacked. 

 

*****

 

It’s been four days.  Four days of Luke avoiding me, which is harder than it sounds since we live in the same rectory and pastor the same church.  Four evenings of jogging until my knees and feet hurt, but I still can’t sleep.  Four nights of driving around Bed-Stuy half the night looking for Rey but not finding her.  The worst part about that is if she’s not on the streets, she’s probably turning tricks.  Or, she might be dead.  Some john could beat her half to death and I’d never know. 

I’ll never find her again.  It was a fluke that I found her the last time.  In a city of nine million people, I shouldn’t have found her.  I’m just about to give up and return to my apartment, in one of NYC’s oldest churches, surrounded by religious art and antiquities that are designed to make people think about God.  But I don’t anymore.  I just think about Rey. 

And suddenly she’s there, leaving a bodega carrying a cup of coffee and what looks like a brownie.  She’s walking the opposite way I’m driving, so I have about five seconds to react before I’ve driven past her.  And since this is what I’ve been waiting for all night I do it. I stop suddenly without even looking in my rear view mirror.  The car behind me honks, and it gets her attention.  She sees me, I know she does, and she stops but she doesn’t smile.  There’s enough room for me to pull over, even though I’m halfway out in the intersection. 

I get the feeling she’s going to bolt, and if she does I may never find her again.  The car drives around me, and gives me the finger as he honks again.  When I look back at Rey she’s sashaying toward me.  Tonight she’s wearing a slinky black dress that barely hits the tops of her thighs, with black high heels and a strappy little purse to match.  Her chestnut hair is tied back in a high ponytail tonight.  She is stunning.  She should be modeling, walking a cat walk, not selling herself on a dirty New York street. 

She still doesn’t smile at me as I hit the button and bring the passenger side window down and she leans in.  “What do you want Father?”  She says it with a ton of sarcasm wrapped around what sounds like pure hatred.  “You’re not getting your money back.”

Her emotional reaction stuns me.  After what happened the last time we were together I thought she’d be a little more welcoming.  Maybe she’s worried I’ll call the cops because she robbed me.  But I would never.  “I don’t want it,” I assure her. 

Her eyes rake over my face, as if she doesn’t believe or trust me.  When they meet mine the golden strands in her hazel orbs are ablaze.  She smirks and purrs, “It’s a thousand for the night,” as she opens the door.  She slides into the seat as if she owns it, but still doesn’t give off any indication that she wants to be here with me. 

I don’t question her though.  I quickly drive out of the intersection and down the street.  The last thing I want is to get pulled over with a hooker in the passenger seat. 

She silently eats her sweet treat as I drive.  I hate to admit that I’ve thought about this, planned out what I would do when I saw her again.  I drive toward the same hotel I took her to the first night. 

Although she remains silent, I have too many thoughts brewing in my head to not let them out.  The words are working against my jaw, fighting to be heard until I demand, "Is Poe your pimp?"

She doesn't answer, and the way she turns her head away from me tells me she won't.   

"How much does he take?" I ask. 

She shrugs. 

"When I hand you a thousand dollars how much do you actually get to keep?"  My voice is a little more forceful than I intended. 

But it gets her to respond.  "I don't think that's any of your business."  I glance over at her, and whatever she sees in my eyes makes her shy away again.  "He protects me."  Her voice shrinks as she finishes   She's obviously not going to give me a truthful answer.

And we’ve arrived at the hotel anyway, so I let it go.  For now.  "The money is in the glove compartment," I inform her. 

She stares at it for several moments, then glances at me.  I avoid her eyes, but I see her open it and stash the money in my periphery.  "Thanks," she says as she opens the door.  After she gets out of the car she pulls her dress down, making herself look more presentable again.  She takes my hand as we enter the lobby.  I guess we look even more like a couple tonight, both of us wearing black. 

The same staff is working, so they quickly go through the registration process and hand me a key.  I guess they remember my generous tips.  That's one good thing about throwing family money around, I guess. 

I can't help thinking about how nervous I was as we're riding up in the elevator.  How afraid I was that I'd never see her again.  How many hours I spent driving around in circles looking for her.  And when we're finally alone in the room, and the DND is placed on the knob and the door is locked, I feel it all come to a boil. 

"I looked for you," I tell her.  I hear my emotions in my voice, so I know she must hear it too.

She walks toward the glass doors and opens them, taking in the beautiful view.  "I do a lot of things.  I see a lot of men," she replies flippantly. 

"I was worried about you," I continue with force behind the words. 

She looks at me over her shoulder, and her ponytail bounces.  "Worried about me, or my soul?"

"You," I tell her, as I stalk toward her.  "I had no way of knowing you were okay." 

"Why do you care?"  Her tone is accusatory.  "There are plenty of hookers out there for you to try to save, Father Solo." 

Two things hit me.  She remembered my name.  But she doesn't know who I am.  She doesn't remember _me_.  She was a child when she knew me.  I don't know why I should expect her to.  But it hurts me to know that she had such an effect on me, and she doesn't even know who I am. 

She spreads her arms and takes a step outside. 

I have too much hurt and pain rolling inside me.  I can't let her walk away like that, so carelessly.  "Stop," I order her.  And she does, but she doesn't turn around.  I have no idea why, or how, but a thought enters into my head.  I have to let her know what she's doing is wrong.  And I have to punish her for it, for not caring about herself and her safety. 

I sit down on the couch and demand, "Come here."

"Yes Father," she murmurs, and pulls off the dress as she walks seductively toward me.  That last little bit of defiance, of immodesty and immorality, seals it. 

"Place yourself over my lap," I order. 

She stops and looks at me.  She must know what I intend to do.  "No!" she replies immediately.  

"Arguing will make it worse," I tell her.  Where has this idea come from?  I was never spanked.  I've always thought it was a lazy form of parenting.  But I need to punish her.  She needs to be disciplined. 

"You're not going to smack me," she states confidently, head high.  The beloved British accent has reared its head again. 

It's my turn to smirk.  "You have a thousand bucks in your purse, and if I recall that gets me anything I want for the night." 

She glares at me for several moments.  I can see her thinking.  There's no champagne in the room tonight.  She doesn't have an exit that doesn't go through me.  So she decides to talk her way out of it. 

"I thought you were supposed to forgive," she snarks. 

"God forgives," I reply smoothly, and crook my finger at her. 

"Is this your kink?  You act like you won't, but spanking's what does it for you?" she steps closer.  "God forgives, but you punish?" 

I've never had this thought about anyone else.  Maybe because I didn't care as much about anyone else.  But I _will_ make her understand.  She decides to make it worse on herself ( _or me_ ) by stripping out of her bra and panties slowly.  She does the whole performance, turning around and bending down, shaking her hips, shimmying her shoulders.  I guess she thinks it might make me change my mind or distract me.  It doesn't.  It just makes me angrier. 

She climbs up onto the couch beside me, bends at the waist, and rubs her torso over my thighs before she finally plants her center over my thighs and tips her rear end upward.  She turns to look up at me with a slight grin on her face, as if she's having fun. 

I'm not playing around.  "This isn't a game Rey.  You need to learn some respect for yourself."  I give her bare buttocks a sharp whack with my open hand.  I might have slapped her harder than I meant to, because the sound echoes through the quiet room.  And it stings my palm. 

She gasps, and her eyes are full of fire as she glares at me.  "Fuck that hurts!"  I give her another smack, this one not quite as hard.  She still cries out "Owww!"  She thrusts her hips up and wiggles them, as if to get away. 

I place one arm over her shoulders and hold her down.  "You don't even keep all the money you make from selling yourself.  You give it away to some asshole degenerate."  At this I give her another quick whack, and she flattens herself against my thighs again.  "Who has hurt you."  Her eyes catch mine, and she looks ashamed and slightly guilty.  I give her another smack.  I can't finish what I was going to say, that he'd hurt her since she was little.  But from the look in her eyes it's obvious he has hurt her, probably recently. 

"Owww, fuck Ben!" she exclaims. 

It flows through me, the sound of her voice saying my name.  If she said my name once, she said it fifty times a day when she was little.  She wanted, no _needed_ , me around constantly.   I stop and my hand rests on her rear.  Our eyes catch, and I wonder if she sees my shock and surprise. 

She moves against my hand and murmurs, "Soothe it." 

I look down at my hand and find her cheeks are bright red.  I did that to her.  I hurt her, just like Poe has. 

"Make it better Ben," she whispers.  The she lifts her hips and shoves her right hand down between her legs that she parts slightly.  "Make it feel good."  Her hazel eyes glow golden when I return my attention to her face. 

I rub her bare ass, down her thighs and up to the small of her back.  She's so damn soft, and so warm. 

"Yes Ben, just like that."  She's staring at me, lying on my lap while she's touching herself.  And she's saying my name.  Like she used to.  Like she always should. 

Her legs go wider, and her other hand moves down.  In the quiet room I hear it, the low sound of wet motion.  She parts her lips and whispers, "Ben."

My hand goes down to her center and I feel her fingers going in and out.  I've watched porn before.  I haven't always been a priest.  But this is something else.  This is Rey, in front of me, pleasuring herself. 

I hear her soft moans.  I feel her touching herself.  She's saying my damn name while she's doing it! 

To say I'm hard is to say this is a normal erection.  It isn't.  I can't even compare this to the last time I was with her.  This is a deep aching need, the way I felt when I needed to punish her. 

"You're so fucking hard Ben," she mutters, and slides down until her face is in my lap.  "Sooo big and hard."  She moves her mouth toward it, and her tongue traces the outline.  She groans and closes her eyes.  "Would feel so good Ben.  Would fill me up."   She grabs it gently between her teeth and pulls down. 

"Don't Rey," I growl, at the same time my hips move up to meet her. 

She traces the outline of it with her mouth, up and down, at the same rhythm she's touching herself.  It's the most erotic thing I've ever felt.  I plant my hands on the cushions and try to pull myself away, but all I feel is the back of the couch. 

“Please Rey,” I beg.  But she redistributes her weight onto her knees, then lowers herself onto one of her shoulders.  Her hand goes for my crotch, and I _want_ it.  Her eyes are on mine as she rubs her hand up the length and I swear she shivers.  This is more than just a kiss.  This is sexual contact, whether she has my cock in her hand or through the thick fabric.  She flicks her thumb against the head, and I’m sure my pants are wet. 

She licks her lips and whispers, “I want to taste you so fucking bad Ben.” 

My hips thrust against her hand.  Damn I want to be inside her. 

“I’m gonna come on my fingers Ben.  I’m gonna come wishing it was your cock.”  It’s not just her words.  It’s the look in her eyes, and the wetness of her lips.  It’s her flush cheeks and her sultry tone.  It is everything Rey. 

And that’s all it takes for her to push me over the edge.  I come in my pants, staring into her molten eyes.  I’m moaning, lips parted, out of my mind with pleasure, and she shoves her fingers into my mouth and oh frag I _taste_ her.  She tastes divine, warm and pure like a summer day.  And I suck and lick every bit of it off fingers and she watches entranced. 

“I’m coming again,” she announces.  Her eyes scrunch up and she bites her bottom lip hard as she moans “Uhh uhh yea”.  Her cheeks turn bright pink and she giggles a little, as she pops her fingers out of my mouth.  “You’re so fucking sexy Ben,” she mutters, as she practically falls into my lap. 

Sexy, me?  Whatever.  I feel my grip on the cushions loosen, and the next thing I know my fingers are on her cheek, pushing her hair over her ear. 

I stare at her, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, these two are killing me. This in not my normal thing, but something about dirty Rey and conflicted Ben is making me think bad thoughts. I hope you enjoy. Please leave kudos and comments!


	8. You'll Get Me Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two have again wrecked my life. 
> 
> I hope someone else can at least get a little pleasure out of it!

 

 

I watch her pretty face, even after she’s fallen asleep.  I lightly trace her cheekbones, her lips, and the crease between her eyebrows.  When I’m sure she won’t wake up I gently lift her head and carefully lift myself off the couch. I walk toward the bedroom as silently as possible.  I relieve my bladder, and it’s difficult because my erection is still stiff as a board.  Then I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder, what am I doing?  What did I think would happen if I found her again?  What was I doing spanking her like that?  I’m not a violent person. 

I don’t even recognize myself right now.  This isn’t me, renting hotel rooms and spanking naked hookers.  But… I liked it.  I liked having her naked on my body.  That was probably the hardest part of this evening, admitting to myself that I want to have her naked in a hotel room, even if I have to pay her a thousand dollars to do it.  Is that sick?  Is it misogynistic?  Anti-feminist? 

It is definitely anti-Catholic, and not even close to conforming to the vows I took when I became a priest.  It’s wrong.  Spending time with her is wrong. 

But I _want_ to.  I want to be with her more than I want my next breath. 

I return to the sitting room and find her still curled up on the couch asleep.  She’s beautiful.  She’s physically perfect, with her strong feline body, her fierce personality, and her magical eyes full of the colors of earth and forests and the sun.  How could I not want her?  How could I not want to protect her, from Poe, from the streets, from johns.  How could I not want to keep her and take care of her?  How could I not want to make sure she follows her dreams, and remembers to eat and take care of herself?  I want her to love and respect herself, as much as I…

I shake my head and snake my arms under her shoulders and knees, to carry her into the bedroom.  She exhales and her eyelids flutter.  “Ben,” she murmurs, and I glance down at her.  But she doesn’t open her eyes.  She’s saying my name in her sleep.  I stop walking and close my eyes, letting the feelings of peace and belonging wash over me.  “Don’t go Ben,” she whispers, and grabs hold of my shirt. 

That’s what she would say every evening when I had to go home.  I would look under her bed and in the closet to assure her there were no monsters.  She would sit on her bed and watch me, her hazel eyes wide with sadness and fear.  She’d lost her mother, and she was afraid of abandonment.  And I would assure her every time, “Luke will make sure nothing here hurts you Rey.  And I will see you tomorrow.”

She would hug the bear I gave her and insist, “Not tomorrow!  Now!” in her sweet accent, and it would crush my heart. 

And I did see her every tomorrow, until the accident.  And then she was gone, and I was alone. 

“Ben,” she says, and I glance down at her again to find her eyes open, and she’s staring at me.  She recognizes me.  I can see it in her eyes.  Or maybe she thinks she does, and she’s not sure.  And suddenly it’s gone.  Her eyes change, to flat and unemotional.  “What are you doing?” 

“I paid for the night so I’m putting you in bed, then I’m crawling in with you,” I tell her. 

“Ummmm…” she moans, as she snuggles against my chest.  She trusts me, and that is everything to me. 

I hadn’t planned to sleep with her tonight.  I’d planned to put her to bed and leave silently.  But remembering how sad she used to be when I left her changed my mind.  I won’t leave her again.  I won’t send her back out into the cold world alone.  She’ll have to go to Poe and hand over her money.  I think in the entire fucked up situation, that part makes me the angriest.  She should not have to sell her body, her soul, to a man and then give a different man part of that money. 

Thankfully the bed has already been turned down.  It would have been hard to do while carrying her.  I lay her on that side of the bed, then tuck her in.  She snuggles into the warm, thick comforter and mutters, “Teddy.” 

I stand as still as a statue, bent over her.  I don’t even breathe.  She gives me a faint grin, and rolls over onto her side. 

“I had a bear named Teddy when I was little.”  Her voice is low, sleepy, but I hear her.  Even though I don’t need to.  I remember the bear. 

“I can’t stay with you Rey but Teddy can,” I told her as I handed her the bear. 

“He smells like you,” she said, with her toothless grin.  I’d outgrown the stuffed animal, but it sat on a shelf in my room for years until I gave it to Rey.  And she hugged the thing like it was her only friend. 

I remove my shoes and place my phone and wallet on the bedside table before climb into the bed with her.  If she’d wanted them she would have taken them the last time we were together. 

I lay beside her on my back, place my hands under my head, and close my eyes.  I begin to say my nightly prayer.  “O my God, I am heartily…” 

And she joins me.  Her voice is a very low whisper, but I hear her.  She stayed in a Catholic orphanage, and she attended church, so I’m not surprised she picked up some of the prayers. 

When we finish she whispers, “Amen.”  

I won’t push it tonight.  I won’t question her about if she’s truly sorry for her sins.  I will let her sleep because she looks like she needs it badly.  I close my eyes and listen to her breathing.  And I’m still awake as she inches slowly toward me.  I feel her fingers grab the front of my shirt and cling onto me.  And I hear her whisper, “Don’t go Ben.” 

We’re both grown up now.  We’re both adults.  I couldn’t stay with her when we were kids, the adults wouldn’t let us.  And I shouldn’t stay with her now.  God knows all the reasons I shouldn’t be here.  But there’s no way I’m leaving her. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure her. 

 


	9. Woohoo!  Woohoo!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lemon flavored ooey gooey marshmallow fluff!

   

I wake up as soon as I hear her move.  I’m not used to sleeping with someone, so that’s probably why my eyes pop open at her slightest move.  I grab her hand and hold it, not letting her leave me. 

Her pretty eyes grow wide as if with fear, until she seems to calm down and they become golden again.  I’d love to think it’s because she realized it was me who was holding her, but I can’t be sure. 

She gives me a slight grin and says, “Housekeeping is gonna have a mess if I don’t go to the bathroom.”

It seems like everything is a game to her.  Everything is funny.  But I’m not laughing.  “Come right back here, or I will chase you down,” I warn her. 

“Yes Father,” she mutters as she tugs against my grip.  I can hear the sarcasm in her voice.  It makes me want to spank her again, and I’ve never been more ashamed.  My heart sinks when I think it.  Violence is never the answer, and it definitely didn’t work on her.  So why am I thinking trying it again would change the outcome? 

I let her go and she rolls off the bed.  I don’t look away to avoid her nudity, even though I know I should.  I’m captivated by her tan skin, and the dusting of freckles that start at her shoulders and continue down her spine and don’t end at the crest of her buttocks.  Yes I’m staring at Rey’s ass, blatantly.  Her hips sway as she walks toward the restroom, as if she knows I’m watching.  She’s being intentionally provocative, and my normal morning erection becomes engorged. 

I know I’m playing with fire.  But I’m enjoying the burn.  She stops at the doorway, and I drink her supple body in, all her youthful muscles and satin skin.  My eyes travel up, enjoying every inch, until they meet hers. 

The corners of her lips tip up and she purrs, “Like what you see?” 

I exhale a huff, and I feel my jaw fighting all of the words I really want to say.  She’s gorgeous.  She’s incredible.  I never imagined she’d grow up to look like that.  I can’t imagine what I would have done if she’d been my foster sister and she looked that damn delicious.  I really shouldn’t say that, but damn I probably would’ve gone right to hell, or jail, if I’d got to live with her. 

I give the safest answer while still telling the truth.  “Yes.” 

“I’m glad you said that.  At least you’re not a liar too.”  She gives me a wink, and shuts the door behind her. 

Once she’s out of the room I can think a little clearer.  What am I doing?  What am I fragging doing?  I am a priest.  I have chosen to devote my life to the Church, to God.  And here I am waking up with a hooker.

No, not just any hooker.  _Rey_.  Which is possibly even worse.  She should have been my _sister_. 

There is only one thing I can think of to do right now.  I close my eyes, and I pray. 

“Into Thy hands, O God, we commend ourselves this day…” 

When I’m finished I open my eyes, ready to begin my morning.  I hear movement to my right, and I feel a peace overtake me knowing that it’s Rey.  Before I even see her, I know that everything is right because she’s here. 

I can’t even fathom the idea that I should have felt this way while praying, or after I finished my prayer.  My eyes catch Rey standing in the doorway of the bathroom naked, and everything else washes away.  I’m not a priest.  I’m just a man who needs a woman in the most basic human way. 

“I’m gonna shower.  You wanna come with?”  Her voice is sultry, sexy, and everything I’m supposed to avoid.  The rest of her is even better.  She’s a golden eyed goddess with wild chestnut hair and sun kissed skin. 

Although I want more than anything to have the strength to say no, of course I don’t.  “Yes.”  The word is practically dragged from my heart. 

She smiles and gives me a cute wink before she turns and disappears through the door.  I can’t help myself.  I have to follow her like the moon needs the sun to shine.  I’d like to say I do it subconsciously, but I don’t.  I know what I’m doing every second that I move toward her. 

I hear the water come on and the shower curtain slide.  I catch sight of her in the mirror before I enter the room.  The image is stunning.  I pull my phone out of my pocket and take a picture.  I know it’s the last thing I should do… Well maybe not the _last_.  Her sinewy back is turned toward the mirror with water trailing down her skin, her hair is wet, and she’s watching as the Manhattan skyline is waking up in front of her. 

I look down at my phone to make sure I have the picture, and it makes me shiver.  I can’t believe I’ll actually get to look at this sacred image for the rest of my life.  I feel myself getting even harder at the thought that I will be able to get myself off to this picture, this moment, indefinitely.

I hear her humming, and my attention returns to the real life Rey in front of me.  I have to place my hand on the wall to keep my knees from buckling.  She’s touching her nipples, and she’s looking at me while she does it. 

And.  She’s.  Naked. 

Her breasts are small but round, and her nipples are hard and pink.  I could count her ribs.  Her tummy is taut and muscular.  Her waist is so small I could span my hands around it.  Her hips are slim.  I feel my lips quiver when I see her pubic hair is a very trim V.  Maybe I was too upset to notice last night, but I notice now, and I can’t look away. 

“Does it turn you on Father?” she coos, as one hand slides over her slick skin toward it. 

“My name is Ben.  Say it,” I grumble as I walk toward her. 

“Or what, you’ll spank me again?”  Her tone is light, her voice airy, and her fingers are rubbing right above the line of hair.  She’s teasing me, and I can’t do anything about it.  I can’t walk away and she knows it.  She has all the power here.  And I think she likes it as much as I do. 

Her hand moves down to her center.  I felt her do this last night.  Now I can see it.  And the ache burning in my chest and the pit of my stomach might be killing me slowly.  I move slightly, so I’m leaning against the door.  It gives me a better angle to watch her.  Frag, that sounds so creepy.  My back against the door frame frees up my hands.  And one slides down the front of my pants, the heel of my palm rubbing against my member. 

I hear her exhale loudly, and I know she’s watching me but I can’t look away from her hands, her stomach, her pubic area.  God, this is so wrong.  But it feels so right. 

“Show me your big dick Ben.”  It’s a hoarse plea, coming from the lips of a queen. 

I can’t disobey.  I don’t think about it because I don’t want to second guess it.  I just do it.  As quickly as humanly possibly my belt is undone, my slacks unbuttoned, and my zipper is down.  It takes a moment to pull my penis out of my briefs.  I don’t usually do this when I’m hard.  But finally I manage somehow, and when I do she groans loudly. 

She repositions herself too.  Her back is against the window overlooking the city.  She spreads her legs as wide as she can in that position, and both of her hands are now there.  I assume she’s using the fingers of one hand inside her, by the way she’s moving it rhythmically up and down.  The other she’s probably using on her clit.  It’s making more of a circular motion. 

“Ummmm, fuck Ben.  You’re so fucking huge.  You’d feel so good.”  Her words are moaned through grunts and pants. 

My shoulders shiver as I take myself in hand.  I start at the head, rubbing my palm in the precum before sliding it down toward the base.  I’ve never really thought about the size of it, but yea it’s not small.  I find my other hand moving down to cup my balls.  I’m a man after all. 

“I want to get you inside me.  I want all of that meat in my mouth,” she gasps, and her muscles twitch.  Her tummy is somehow even tighter.  “I want to choke on your cock, Ben.  We’d have to do it in the shower, because I’d make such a fucking mess trying to throat fuck your dick.” 

I’ve never thought of anyone wanting to do that to me, until right now.  I mean sure men want it.  But women don’t want to do it.  Do they?  Does she really want to suck my cock, or is she playing mind games? 

I somehow tear my eyes away from the amazing show she’s giving me, and find her eyes are wide and glassy, and staring right at my tool.  That’s all it takes to make me moan loudly. 

“Want it in my pussy, in my ass.  Want it in all my holes Ben.  Want it so bad.”  Her tone is guttural now.  Her cheeks are as pink as her nipples.  Her lips are wet and parted.  And her eyes are full of lust.  For me.  _Me_. 

I feel everything happen at once.  Shivers.  Goose bumps.  Muscles squeezing.  Toes curling.  Jaw clenching.  Balls tightening.  “Uh, uh, uh…”  That’s my voice making those noises. 

“Bet you’d find my spot.  Bet you’d make me squirt,” she croaks. 

“Ooooohhhh….” I exclaim as I feel the orgasm cresting.  “Rey, fuck!” I cry out as I spurt come so far it hits the side of the tub. 

“Gonna come for you Ben.  Gonna come so fucking hard.” 

My eyes quickly scan down her body, and watch as her hips rock into her hands so hard it shakes the window behind her. 

“Shit Ben!  Shit shit shit!” she screams, and I see her orgasm gush through her fingers. 

And somehow I’m still coming.  The waves of pleasure are still crashing through me.  “Rey!  Oh God Rey!” I call out as I watch her crumble down into the tub.  She laughs as she tips her head back, and the water splashes over her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. There has been so much going on. (And none of it is bad!)  
> Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudoing! It is so much appreciated by this writer!


	10. Said I Can't Go On, Not In This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What flavor is angst?

She plugged the drain and she’s soaking in the tub.  I’m sitting right beside her on the floor.  I’ve used the excuse that I’m washing her back to be closer to her, to touch her skin and her hair.  She has her arms wrapped around her shins, and I think she’s closing her eyes to avoid looking at me.  But it’s okay.  I don’t need her to look at me.  She feels me touching her.  She knows I’m beside her.  Maybe she’ll figure out that I really do _care_. 

I’ve worked the words I want to say in my brain over and over, and I can’t think of anything _good_ to say.  So I settle on this.  “I want your phone number Rey.  I want to be able to get in touch with you.” 

“So you can call me up when you want an exciting night?” she snarks immediately.  But after a moment when I don’t take her bait she rests her cheek on her knee, opens her hazel eyes, and looks at me.  Her lips part, her pupils dilate, and she exhales softly. 

Seeing her pure, unadulterated response to me is more intoxicating than the champagne we shared.  She can’t fake it, and she doesn’t have to say it for me to know that she’s attracted to me.  Even though she has said it many times.  Words can be lies, but her flushed cheeks and wide eyes aren't.  She wants me, and it makes my heart skip a beat. 

“So I’ll know you’re okay, Rey.  So I know you haven’t been injured.  So I don’t have to go stalking after some a-hole who hurt my…”  I can’t say it.  My _Rey_.  Because she’s not _mine_. 

“Favorite prostitute?” she finishes with bite in her tone, even though her eyes become softer. 

“You’re so much more than that,” I murmur.  I reach out and touch her cheek, and she leans into my fingertips.  She rubs against me, and sighs at the contact. 

She stares at me for several moments, before she turns her head to lightly kiss my fingertips.  It’s an intimate action.  It’s shocking how gentle her touch can be sometimes, in contrast to her words.  We’re so close I could kiss her forehead.  I allow my nose to brush lightly against it. 

There is so much I want to say to her.  But I choose one word, and I whisper it.  “Rey.”  My Rey. 

She closes her eyes and tips her head up.  Our lips almost meet, and I am fighting everything I am, everything I’ve vowed to be, not to kiss her. 

“Are you him?”  It’s lower than a whisper, but I hear it. 

It sends shock waves through me.  I can’t believe she remembers.  I pause for a moment, not answering because I’m stunned.  Not that I have a lot of words at my disposal anyway, that aren’t someone else’s.  Not that I’m charming, or handsome.  Not that I’m anything that would ever attract a woman who looks like her. 

Her eyes open and she stares at me.  They search every inch of my face, pausing on my jaw and my lips before stopping at the scar.  She reaches out to touch it, and I hold my breath and try my hardest not to flinch.  Her fingertips graze against it, and I shiver.  If it hadn’t been for the accident, if it hadn’t been for the hospital stay, they would have never placed Rey in a foster home.  I would have fought tooth and nail to keep her out of that system.  I might have only been fourteen, but I would have done everything in my power to protect Rey.  And she’s touching it, and looking at it, and she’s not disgusted by it like I am.  She doesn’t know everything it means. 

“This threw me off.  And the hair.  It was shorter then,” she mutters as her fingers find their way toward the object of her attention.  “I like it longer.” 

“Rey.”  I say it as I grasp her wrist and stop her.  I want her to touch me so damn badly, but I know I won’t be able to stop her if she wants to go farther in this moment, or myself.  It’s too much.  Too emotional.  Too tempting.  Too alluring. 

“I thought you would be mine forever,” she says.  “But you abandoned me just like my…” 

“No,” I argue.  My voice might be a little too forceful for the tender moment. 

She shudders.  Her forehead wrinkles, and her eyebrows meet over the bridge of her nose.  Her eyes suddenly change.  She’s confused, and she’s blaming me like I dreaded she might.  “I ended up in the…”

I have to stop this train of thought.  I have to take her back to remembering how she looked at me when she realized who I am.  So I lean in and touch my lips to hers. 

She gasps and flinches away from me.  “No,” she whispers.

But I don’t stop.  I part my lips and try to force my tongue past hers.  I try to kiss her the way I’ve wanted to since I found her again. 

But she places her hands on my shoulders and pushes me away.  And as she does she stands, and water splashes off her body and out of the tub.  I move away from it instinctively, and she grabs a towel and flees out of the bathroom, wrapping it around her at the same time. 

I grab a towel too, wiping at my clothes as I follow after her. 

“No,” she exclaims, and puts the hand that isn’t holding the towel around her up to stop me.  I freeze, standing as still as a statue, staring at my Rey.  She is glaring back at me.  “I trusted you.”

“Rey, let me…” 

“Lie about what really happened?  Try to somehow explain away why a teenage boy didn’t want to be burdened with a little girl who had no one else?”  The accent is just as strong as it was when she was still that little girl, hugging my teddy bear and searching for anyone or anything to grasp onto.  She just happened to latch onto me because I was there and I was just as lonely as she was. 

It wouldn’t have been healthy for either of us.  I see that right now.  It’s slapping me in the face just as harshly as if she were physically doing it.  She’s right.  I was a teenage boy, who was moving quickly into puberty.  She was a child who needed so much more care and psychological help than I could have given her, and so much more than she actually got. 

And what’s between us now isn’t healthy either.  I think of all of the things I’ve said to Rose to dissuade her.  Just because it’s _Rey_ doesn’t give me the excuse to do the things we’ve done together.  Just because it’s the girl who happened to fixate on me when she was younger doesn’t mean we should be together now, any more than we should have when we were younger. 

I swallow the pain that knowledge brings, and I feel it lodging in my throat.  The unshed tears the pain brings burns my chest and my heart.  I feel my jaw working against the words I know I need to say, fighting to speak the words I want to say. 

_I would never have left you.  The scar is the physical manifestation of the accident that tore me away from you.  I’ve hated my father for it ever since.  I would have protected you from whoever tried to hurt you.  I would have loved you, and smothered you, and never let you talk to boys or date because I would have been ferociously jealous if you’d grown to love anyone but me.  I would never have let you grow and flower and mature.  I would have kept you as mine, even if you didn’t want me the same way.  I would have grown to become the person who hurt you, not physically but emotionally._

I see it all so clearly now.  Luke was right to separate us.  But he was so wrong to do it behind my back.  He was wrong in the foster mother he chose.  And he was wrong to keep us apart.  If we’d stayed in touch I could have stopped the abuse she suffered. 

I know now.  And I can never tell her.  She has to blame me, because I wasn’t what she needed then and I can’t be what she needs now. 

I barely whisper the words I decide to say.  “You’re right.  I started playing basketball and I didn’t have time for you.”  It sounds like a lie to my own ears. 

She looks as confused as she did earlier.  She doesn’t know if she should believe me.  Can she tell I’m lying?  Or maybe she doesn’t want to believe me.  Maybe somewhere deep down she still wants me to be that teenage boy who wanted nothing more than to take care of her.  But eventually she accepts my lie and her eyes fall away. 

“I should have known.  I knew a man like you could never want a woman like me.”  She says it through tears as she turns away.  “I should have known the only person I thought really loved me didn’t care.”  As she speaks she moves around the room, gathering up her discarded clothing.  She lets the towel drop casually, but her beauty and nudity stabs me in the heart.  “I should have known no one wanted me then, and no one will ever want me now.” 

When she’s dressed she stomps toward the door.  I turn and watch, helpless to say or do anything that would change her mind and show her that I loved her then and I love her now. 

I could though.  I could go to her and hold her, keep her, and never let her go.  I could turn my back on my vows and be a normal person.  I could love her.  And I could grow to resent her.  Or she could realize her feelings for me aren't what they were then. 

We stare at each other for several moments.  I want to say so much.  She’s waiting for words that she wants to hear.  But I can’t. 

“Goodbye Ben,” she says as she opens the door.

“Goodbye Rey,” I reply as I take a step toward her. 

She leaves, and I watch her go. 

This is right.  This is for the best. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.


	11. I Can Feel My Heart Beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order a double shot of angst?

I have a cup of coffee, which I really shouldn’t because it’s so unprofessional.  A priest shouldn’t have coffee in the confessional.  And of course Rose sees me with it as I walk past.  She grins at me, which is normal, then she sees the cup and is very confused.  Then she notices the bags under my eyes and frowns. 

I step into the confessional and close the door, and mentally prepare for Rose. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.  But first off, you look like shit.  Are you coming down with something?”  She doesn’t know how to be anything other than blunt. 

“I was with an ill parishioner late last night,” I lie.  I was out looking for Rey again.  I haven’t seen her since she walked out on me.  It only took two days to break down and realize that what I said was wrong.  I’ve been looking for her for four days, driving around Long Island every night.  Last night I got more familiar with Suffolk County than I ever wanted to be.  And still no Rey. 

“Oh, that’s too bad.”  She’s blunt, but thoughtful.  “Who’s sick?”  And she’s nosy.  She’s quite an eclectic mix of emotions and moods.  It never would have worked between us, even if I wasn’t a priest. 

“You know I can’t tell you, not unless he wants the parish to know.”  At least I thought to say _he_.  Maybe that will throw her off the scent that something’s wrong. 

“Okay, I understand.”  She clears her throat and gives a little giggle.  “So it’s been a week since my last confession.”  She pauses momentarily, and I think maybe that’s my cue to say something.  Thankfully, no.  “I’d like to say I haven’t thought of you that way since you asked me not to, but I can't.  I haven’t done it nearly as much, though.  Not since I decided to join Finn at the coffee shop.  We work together.  I saw that he was sitting alone one afternoon, and I decided to just go for it.  That’s not a sin, is it?”

“Ummm…” I reply, before I take a sip of coffee.  “No Rose, chatting with a coworker isn’t a sin.” 

“But I asked him out,” she continues. 

“Still not a sin.” 

“He said yes.  We’re going out tonight.”  She’s quiet for several moments.  “He’s not Catholic.” 

“Not everyone has to be.”  My tone is almost snarky.  I catch a sigh, at myself not Rose, and rub my forehead.  I need sleep.  “Be the shining example of the Catholic faith I know you can be.  You’ll have him converted in no time.”  That was priestly sounding, and mature.  I guess. 

“Ben,” she practically whispers it.  I’m not ready for what follows when Rose calls me by my name.  “Thank you for turning me down.  You were right.  I don’t know what I was thinking, hitting on Ben Solo.  You’re like, the most straight laced priest I know.  I’ve never even seen you drink a beer.” 

I nearly choke on my coffee. 

“Maybe you should head to the doctor.  You don’t sound well,” she says. 

I take a minute to clear my throat.  And my head.  “Maybe. Anything else you'd like to confess?” 

“Um, the usual masturbation thing,” she adds at the end. 

“Five Hail Marys, ten Our Fathers, and say the Rosary,” I tell her, almost automatically. 

“Thanks Father.”  Her tone is chipper and bright when she leaves.  Maybe I’ve finally taken care of Rose’s situation.  Now how do I fix myself? 

 

*****

 

I am not actively avoiding Luke Skywalker.  I have not sought him out since I confessed that I kissed Rey.  I probably should confess again, but I’m not in a hurry to do it with my uncle.  We’ve passed each other in the parish office, said hello at the coffee pot, and chatted about the confessional schedule outside my apartment door.  He doesn’t seem to have picked up on any of my stress. 

So imagine my surprise when I’m headed out to my car at six for my weekly Friday evening D&D session, and I find Han Solo standing by his brand new sports car, which is parked next to mine.  He’s on the phone, and his voice is a low, deep rumble.  Whatever he’s saying he doesn’t want anyone to hear his conversation. 

“Dad?”  I stop suddenly and just kinda stare at him.  I can’t remember the last time I saw him in church. 

“Hey kid,” he says with a wave, before he quickly ends his call.  I’ve sometimes wondered if he’s cheating on my mother, but I don’t think he has the balls.  And I think if she found out he’d disappear, and she’d make it look like he ran off.  I know she has that kind of power.  “Hot date?” he asks off-handedly. 

I feel my jaw working, trying to come up with an answer.  I’m only going to my D&D sesh, but then I think about how I’ll probably search for Rey afterward.  I’m wearing my normal black slacks and black shirt, minus the collar.  I should probably buy some jeans. 

“I’m just jabbin’ at ya.  I know you don’t have a date,” he replies quickly.  Sometimes when I haven’t seen him in a while I forget his Texas accent, which only comes out when something’s bothering him. 

“Is Mom okay?” I ask suddenly.  It’s the only reason he’d be here, alone. 

“Um…  That’s the thing kid.  She doesn’t know,” he says as he walks toward me. 

“What do you mean?” I demand.  I realize I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot, so I walk toward him so he doesn’t have to shout my mom’s business across the parking lot. 

I also forget sometimes how much I favor my dad, until I see him in person.  Although I obviously have my mom’s hair and eye color, and her paler skin, I have my dad’s nose and mouth.  It’s obvious I’m his.  It’s still weird towering over him, even though I’ve been taller than him since I was fifteen. 

“She’s having some tests run next Tuesday with an oncologist.”  Everything goes blank inside my head.  I’m not prepared for this today.  But when is someone ever prepared for something like this?  “She didn’t want to worry you, kid.  But I think she’d be more at ease if you were there with her.  Do you think you could swing by and spend an hour holding your mom’s hand?” 

“Of course,” I reply.  I don’t know what else to say. 

“You could stop by the house and see her.  She misses you.  Just because you’re upset at me, doesn’t mean you have to ignore your mom.”  He says it casually.  As if he didn’t completely change my life with his need for speed.  And probably Rey’s too. 

“You messed up everything for us,” I growl, as I take a step closer to him.  Looking down at my dad in this situation feels pretty good. 

He looks surprised, which I’m not expecting.  “Us?”

Frag!  How did I let that slip out so easily.  “Me and you,” I explain. 

He holds up his hands and takes a step back, but finds his car bumper behind him.  “The scar’s barely noticeable.  You’re almost as attractive as your mother.” 

“You don’t understand anything,” I counter, and subconsciously sweep my hair into my face.  “You changed everything.” 

He scoffs, and gives me the famous Han Solo _who me?_ look. 

“Because of the accident, a young girl’s life was ruined,” I inform him, angrily.  I even point my finger in his chest. 

“There wasn’t any other cars involved, Ben.  It was just you and me.  Look, I’ve told you before, the car was recalled less than two weeks later because of the break line,” he says.  Han Solo always has an excuse, or an explanation.  But this time his stupid Texas charm isn’t going to help him talk his way out of this.  

“It’s the butterfly effect.  You never know what harm your mistakes are going to cause other people.”  I hear a car pull up in the parking lot, and I step away from him.  Was I being threatening to my father?  God, I hope so.  “And you were driving way too fast,” I finish, without looking at him. 

“Is this about that little girl, what was her name?  Rox?” 

“Rey,” I correct him.  And then I sigh loudly.  I have a bad feeling this is going to get back to Luke, and I’ll have to start trying to avoid him. 

“Yea, Rey,” he says.  He stares me down, and I know he’s trying to read me.  “You never let anything go, do ya?  You’re gonna have a heart attack before you’re forty.” 

And before I can stop myself I pull back and punch him in his perfect jaw.  Half way through I realize what I’m doing, and let up on the force I put behind it.  But I don’t stop it completely.  I’ve had a scar for more than half my life.  He can deal with a bruise. 

Besides being with Rey, I don’t think anything in my life has felt as good as my knuckles connecting with his face.  His shock at it actually happening is a close second. 

“Fuck,” he yells as his head whips back.  His hand goes up immediately to cup it.  He wouldn’t dare hit me back.  “Ow,” he complains, and works his jaw from side to side.  “I might have deserved that.” 

“Trust me you did,” I inform him as I walk toward my car.  I don’t elaborate about Rey.  He doesn’t deserve to know how far she’s fallen. 

“I’ll text you the time and place for Tuesday,” he calls out.

I wave and start the car.  I’ve had enough crap for one day.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry again.


	12. Everything You Wants A Dream Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last update for the night. A little bit of Ben and friends fluff to calm his mood down.

 

“Who are you and what have you done with Father Ben,” Gwen asks playfully when she sees me grabbing a bottle of beer out of her fridge.  She grabs hold around my shoulders and gives them a tight squeeze.  She’s as strong as she looks.  It’s kind of strange looking a woman in the eye, but I like it with Gwen.  It’s comforting not having to look down at someone for a change.  I definitely don’t slouch or stoop when she’s around. 

She’s theist but not Christian.  She’s political and not the least bit politically correct.  She’s not afraid to express her opinion, especially when it comes to women’s rights.  And she’s bisexual.  She’s the best friend a priest could ever ask for, because she challenges me.  And I have so much respect for her I listen.  She’s one of the best defense lawyers in the city, and my mom hates to hear her name on the docket.  She’s perfect, especially since I need someone sane to talk to Rey about. 

“Can I talk to you later?” I ask Gwen, when Hux joins us. 

He looks at me, then at the beer and says, “Rough day at the church?” 

“Haha, funny.  Maybe you should quit your day job and be a comedian,” I snark back.  He’s one of the hottest traders on Wall Street, so I doubt he’s gonna give that up any time soon. 

At that moment Mitaka enters with two large pizzas and another six pack of beer.  It’s the microbrew he likes.  Gwen doesn’t stock it intentionally, because of her complete contempt for Mitaka trying to act like a hipster. 

“Grow a beard for fuck sake,” she jibes as she takes the pizzas. 

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything to her.  He doesn’t say much of anything.  But he does give me a grin and says, “Hey Ben.” 

“How’s it going Mitaka?”  Although I’ve always liked Mitaka, and he’s the most level headed of our small group, he’s not easy to talk to.  Gwen practically demands friendship, so she’s easier. 

“It’s good.  How are you doing?” he asks when he looks at the beer in my hand. 

I have to bite my tongue so I don’t snap, but only because it’s Mitaka.  “I’ve been better,” I admit.  He nods, but doesn’t ask any more questions.  He grabs some pizza, a microbrew, and heads into Gwen’s game room. 

She has all the best video games including arcade Pac Man and Alien Invaders, and she has a round table big enough for the four of us and our game stuff, with these cool medieval looking chairs.  She can afford all the best toys.  Actually since Mitaka’s family’s in real estate, all of us together would probably be worth a quarter of a billion dollars.  I guess that’s kind of why we gravitated to each other in college, and we’ve been together ever since.  It didn’t hurt that we all love D&D.  Well, Hux tolerates it because the rest of us play but still. 

“You know I only come for the pizza and the beer,” he reminds us all again when we’re all sitting down at the table.  But it’s not lost on anyone else that he’s the first one with his notebook and dice out. 

I realize as I’m looking around at my small group of friends that I needed this. 

 

*****

 

Everyone’s gone by eleven except me.  “No more Ben.  You’re driving,” she says as she leans against the fridge.  “When was your last drink?  I don’t want to have to defend a priest on a drunk driving charge.  You lot don’t need any more bad press.” 

I scoff.  “Almost two hours ago.  And I’ve only had two.”  But I take the coffee she offers me with a hearty, “Thank you.”  I have a feeling I’m going to need this to face tomorrow.  Shockingly Saturday is my second busiest day of the week.  I’m contemplating just going back to the apartment and actually getting some sleep. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she prompts as she leads me toward the living room.  She has a comfy leather couch and her 4K TV is always on GoT. 

“When I was younger there was a girl at my uncle’s orphanage,” I begin.

She nods and says, “Rey.” 

How does everyone know about Rey?  I wonder if Hux knows.  Probably not, he just acts like he pays attention to us because he hates everyone else. 

“Yes, Rey.”  I sigh loudly and tip my head back.  “She’s a prostitute.” 

She reaches out and pats my hand.  “I’m sorry Ben.  I know you care about her.” 

“How do you know?” I ask, maybe a little too loudly.  My emotions are definitely getting the better of me today. 

“You’ve talked about her once or twice, and I pay attention to my friends.  She seemed important to you.”  Her voice is caring, concerned.  Yes, this is exactly what I needed.  “Tell me about her.  What happened?” 

“My stupid uncle challenged me to meet more sinners,” I begin. 

“He doesn’t know me, obviously,” she counters with a chuckle. 

“As soon as I saw her something told me to pick her up.  And I was crushed when I found out it was her.  It’s like everything that has happened in my life is meaningless.”  She wraps her arm around my shoulders and rests her head on one.  “I blame Han and the damn accident.  I punched him earlier.” 

“Oh Ben.  Why don’t you spend the night and have another beer?” she suggests. 

“She’s so beautiful Gwen.  She’s got this amazing feminine yet tight body.  Her hazel eyes sparkle golden when she looks at me, and her cheeks get pink.  Everything about her makes me want her, and I wonder if that’s why they separated us.  Could they tell when I was younger that I’d grow up and want her this much?”  I almost didn’t say it out loud.  It was hard enough thinking it.  But I know Gwen will understand, and she will never tell anyone. 

“No Ben.  I have to believe it was because your uncle is a fucking moron.”  She says it calmly, but her feelings are clear. 

“I couldn’t agree more.  And when I told him about Rey, he said he couldn’t believe we found each other.  That just reinforces the idea that they separated us for a reason.” 

I jump when my phone vibrates in my pocket.  My first thought is that something happened to my mother.  Why else would someone text me after eleven? 

It’s a number I don’t recognize.  It’s a 347 number.  250.  It’s a local cell.  It’s definitely not my dad’s, or my mom’s.  I pull up the message, and I’m floored. 

Gwen reads it out loud as I stare at it.  I almost wish I could exchange Siri’s voice for hers. 

“It’s Rey.  With an e, that’s cute.  I know you’re going through something.  I can feel it.  Your emotions are so loud it makes my heart hurt.  Meet me at the hotel in three hours.  Text me the room number.”  Gwen scoffs and looks at me.  “You know she’s a prostitute.  You know she’s just looking for a room for the night.  She doesn’t feel your emotions, Ben.  She’s playing you.  She’s using you for a room and a payday.” 

I don’t answer.  Of course a lawyer would think that way.  But I know what she means.  One of the things that I could do, that I’ve been able to do if I really wanted to, was read people’s minds.  And when I tried it with Rey, to prove to her I could do it, I think it linked us somehow.  I think that’s why I’ve never been able to forget about her. 

My family is special.  My uncle can heal the sick.  My mother can sense when bad things are going to happen.  God brought them together when they were teenagers.  It’s not weird though, or limited to my family.  Padre Pio said he could read people’s hearts.  Joseph of Cupertino could levitate.  St. Januarius’s blood liquefies three times a year.  And I can read people’s minds.  I can also levitate things, and if I try really hard I can light fires.  But I don’t tell anyone.  Unlike my uncle, I don’t want to be the center of that kind of attention. 

“Maybe she needs me Gwen.  I just have to know she’s okay.”  I pull up the keyboard and reply to her text.  _Where are you now?  Can I come to you?_

The dots form quickly, as if she was waiting on my answer.  _Are you okay Ben.  I’d rather meet you._

“See I told you.  Maybe she’s planning to rob you.” 

“She already has,” I tell her. 

She gasps, “Ben!”

But I shrug it off.  _Tell me where you are.  I need you now._

She wouldn’t be texting me if she was with a john, would she?  Maybe she’s drugged some other unwitting guy and is robbing him right now.  The dots form and I wait.  It takes a minute for her to reply.  _Takadano’s on Quincy Street.  I’m on break.  I’ll be here until after one._

“That’s a strip club in Bed Stuy,” Gwen informs me.  And she didn’t even have to Google it.  I don’t want to know how she knows.  I immediately stand up.  She scoffs.  “Surely you’re not going.”

“I am,” I tell her.  She stands, and I hug her quickly.  “Thanks for listening.”

She pulls away to pat my cheeks.  “You’re an even bigger fucking moron than your uncle.  This girl had better be…”

I pull up the picture of her in the shower.  I have to remind myself again that I have complete trust in her as I show her my phone. 

“Ohhhhhh…” she sighs as she looks at the picture.  I almost wish I’d taken a video but I’m not that brave.  “Damn Ben.  Why aren’t you already there?  Run if you have to.  Go to that girl!”  She nods her encouragement and her blessing, and gives me a huge grin.  Her smile is contagious.  I’m grinning like an idiot as she walks me toward the door.  “You look happy Ben, for the first time in a long time.” 

“I’ll let you know how it goes.”  I take a deep breath and make my way toward Rey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to add this in but the muse didn't agree. So here goes.
> 
> Ben's character is a half orc half human Paladin named Kylo (we already know)  
> Gwen's character is a female human fighter named Phasma  
> Hux's character is a female catfolk thief named Millicent (after his pet cat of course)  
> And Mitaka's character is a male half human half elf bard named Ed Sheeran (hehe I couldn't resist. sorry again!)


	13. I Promise It's A Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And... I'm sorry??? Please see end notes. And don't be shy.

 

 I don’t stop and think about what I’m doing.  I don’t rethink my decision.  I hand over the forty dollar cover charge almost eagerly, and the bouncer opens the door and sweeps his arm to usher me inside.  I hear muffled music, and realize I’m in a small lobby.  There are no windows so it’s dark, with walls that look like stone and recessed lighting.  Restrooms are to the right, and straight ahead are two huge wooden doors.  Am I in some kind of medieval castle?  I did just leave the D&D session, and this place fits right in.  I walk toward the doors, and instead of opening I inspect the wall to see if it’s real stone.  I’m disappointed to find out it is not.  Then I feel like a moron when a group of young professionals, two of which are women, stare at me while they open the door.  _So smooth, Solo._

I shake my head to shove my hair over my scar, at the same time loud dance music assaults my ears.  I step into the main room and I see a stage that starts at the center back of the room before a strip from the center juts out into the crowd.  A black woman is in the center flat on her back with her legs up in the air, spread wide and shaking seductively.  The song repeats the words, “She wants it, so I gotta give it to her,” before another voice raps, “Her hips, her thighs, she got me hypnotized.”  Men seated around the stage throw money onto it.  She quickly rolls over onto all fours and crawls down the center and rubs her breasts over the money.  One man has a bill between his lips and the woman moves up onto her knees, leans forward and takes the money with her teeth. 

So this is what happens at strip clubs, huh?  I’m not impressed.  I find an empty chair toward the back of the room in the corner farthest away from the door.  Then I pull out my phone and text her.  _I’m here.  Now what?_   After I hit send I add the number in my contacts as **Rey**.  It’s reassuring to know that I can message her, and maybe she’ll even text me back. 

I’m watching my phone waiting for the text bubble to appear, and it registers in the back of my mind that the song changes.  I glance at the stage again and see a young, fake blonde dancing to Cherry Pie by Warrant.  This girl wasn’t even born when this song came out.  I shake my head and return to waiting for Rey to text me back. 

“Hey handsome,” I hear a woman’s voice say from beside me.  I don’t look up.  She’s obviously talking to someone else.  “I haven’t seen you in here before, and trust me I’d remember _you_.”  That’s when she touches my wrist, and I flinch. 

I look over at the barely dressed girl and she’s staring at my watch.  I had to deal with this once or twice in college, girls I knew were only after me for my family’s name or money. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not…” I begin.  But I have absolutely no clue what I am or what I’m not.  And I’m not gonna tell this young woman that. 

Thankfully I’m saved from having to explain myself.  “Back off Zi, this one’s mine.”  I turn toward the voice and I find Rey standing in front of the girl, her eyes are blazing and her teeth are bared like a protective lioness. I feel my heart skip a beat when she claims me. This beautiful goddess just said I'm hers, and I've never felt more like I've belonged anywhere in my life. Even if it is to a girl who's wearing the shortest silver lame skirt I’ve ever seen, even by Rey’s standards, showing her white panties, and a white triangle style bikini top. 

“Whatever,” the girl says and flips her jet black hair over her shoulder before standing up.  Rey glares at her as she struts away, practically daring her to look back at me. 

When she’s satisfied that the girl is gone she sits down beside me.  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she mutters as she finally tips her face up to look at me.  She’s wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen on her, and she looks completely stunning.  Her eyeliner dramatically emphasizes her beautiful eyes, her blush make makes her cheekbones look impossibly high, and her lips are a kissable pink.  I might be mesmerized, because I can’t think of anything but her. 

“I saved your number in my phone after the first night, as Big Ben.”  I huff when she says it, but she grins and I see dimples beside her pretty lips.  Why have I never noticed she has dimples before now?  “I went through all of your stuff while you were out.”  When she knocked me out, I want to say.  But she doesn’t give me time.  She continues, “When I saw your name I knew who you were.  I was…”  She looks away from me, down at her legs.  She squirms in the chair, trying to arrange her skirt so it looks a little longer, but she’s just making the white triangle between her legs more obvious.  And I can’t tear my eyes away from it. 

Not even when I hear another female voice ask, “Hey hon, what are you drinking?” 

“He’ll have a soda and I’ll have a martini,” Rey answers for both of us.  She touches my shoulder and I gain some composure and find her eyes, after raking mine over her flat tummy and small breasts.  “You have to buy me a drink or they’ll make me find another guy who will.  Martini is code.  It’s actually water in a martini glass.  I don’t like to drink while I’m working.” 

I’m reminded of how easily she ordered champagne that first night.  Did she know who I was, maybe subconsciously, even then?  There’s so much I want to tell her, about my mom, about Gwen, about punching my dad.  But none of it will come out. 

The waitress in the sexy nurse outfit brings our drinks and I’m surprised when she asks for fifty dollars.  But I hand her three twenties.  “Keep the change,” I tell her. 

She seems pleased as she says, “Thanks sexy,” takes the money and walks away. 

“I’m sorry you have to see this.”  I don’t know if she means the way she’s dressed, the club with the half-naked women walking around serving thirty dollar water, or the nude women on the stage.  But all I see is my Rey. 

“I’m, um…” I start. 

She quickly interrupts.  “Disgusted?  Appalled?  That’s why I didn’t want you to come here.” 

I stare into her eyes and tell her, “I was going to say okay.” 

“How could you be?” she practically whines. 

I shrug.  “You’re here, and you’re okay.  It’s soothing.”  It’s true.  I can handle the other crap, as long as Rey’s with me. 

The song changes again.  This one sounds oddly like Rodgers and Hammerstein. 

“I have to go.  I’m up next,” she says, and stands up.  She bites her lip shyly, as if she’s afraid to say something.  But she glances at the stage and mutters, “You can come up to the front if you want,” before she hurries away. 

Really?  Come up to the front in a strip club?  How do I know a parishioner won’t see me?  How do I know one hasn’t already?  But as I watch her walk away I see the people sitting around the stage holding out money to get the stripper’s attention.  Do I want some other man to offer Rey cash like that?  Do I want her taking off her top to thrust her boobs into another guy’s face? 

I’m glad I stopped at the ATM before I came here.  Now I have to grow some balls and get over this fear of being seen and walk toward the stage in a strip club so I can offer Rey money so she won’t look at another man. 

Frag!  This girl has got inside my head and twisted me up.  I can’t think straight.  I shouldn’t have come here I tell myself, as I move toward the front of the room and find one chair open by the stage.  I have a really bad feeling about this. 

Until the lights go down and I hear a slow, sultry electronic drum beat start.  When the lights come back on Rey is strutting onto the stage wearing a silver pleather jacket buttoned up primly, not showing anything but her long tanned legs and her wild chestnut hair.  And I already can’t breathe. 

She stalks across the stage with the feline grace I’m used to seeing from her.  Her eyes catch mine before she quickly looks away.  I feel a mixture of pride and shame coming from her, and I’m second guessing coming up here.  Then she’s leaning on the pole, one arm over her head, as she seductively slides down it while parting her legs.  I barely see the white triangle under her coat, and I’m already getting hard.  This is going to be as embarrassing for me as it is for her. 

It might be my hypersensitivity because Rey is onstage, or it might be because I’m closer, but I understand every lyric of the song.  _“I got a body full of liquor with a cocaine kicker and I’m feeling like I’m thirty feet tall.  So lay it down, lay it down.”_

Rey’s routine is coordinated to the song.  She slides all the way down onto the stage, arches her back, and thrusts her chest up toward the sky.  I hold my breath, grip the armrest on the chair tightly, and watch. 

_“You got your legs up in the sky with the devil in your eyes.  Let me hear you say you want it all.  Say it now, say it now.”_

She moves her head to the side and her eyes find mine as her legs thrust up, and she shakes them as she slowly lowers them to the floor.  Memories of her straddling my hips, of her mouth on my center, of her fingering herself while I watch, flood through my head.  And I don’t know if I can sit here and watch my Rey dance for money much longer.  I don’t know if I have that much control. 

_“Look what you’re doing.  Look what you’ve done.  But in this jungle you can’t run.”_

She bends her legs under her and pulls herself into a seated position, before thrusting her hips out and rubbing her hands up over her body.  Her ab strength is phenomenal.  Then she tips her head back and allows her hair to cascade over her hands.  She is literally killing me slowly, and I love it. 

Then she rolls her body as she stands, popping her hips back and her chest forward, with her mouth parted and her eyes closed.  I feel my fingernails digging into the leather of the chair. 

The beat becomes heavier, faster.  _“Cause what I got for ya, I promise it’s a killa.  You’ll be banging on my chest, bang bang.  Gorilla.”_   At that a crescendo starts, and she pulls the jacket open and off in one swift motion as the lights flash green and white, and the money starts to rain onto the stage.  I see fives and tens mixed in with ones, and I feel the same pride mixed with shame she must have felt before she started. 

Now all she feels is power, and control, and so damn sexy. 

She’s still wearing the white top and bottoms and silver skirt, but somehow it’s a little sexier now that she’s up on stage.  And her tanned body is to die for.  Her long legs are muscular, her abs are pronounced, and her cleavage is making me insane. 

_“You and me baby making love like gorillas.”_ She looks at me as she shakes her hips and shoulders, and I have no idea how my heart is still beating.  Then she bends forward at the waist, and the skirt is on the floor, and she easily steps out of it. 

When she’s only in the bikini her entire body sways to the once again slow beat as she grabs the pole again.  She climbs it easily, although it’s nothing but slick metal.  I’m stunned. 

_“Yea, I got a fistful of your hair but you don’t look like you’re scared.  You just smile tell me daddy it’s yours.”_  

When she’s at the top she wraps her leg around it and spins as she slides down, and I’m enthralled.  She winks at me when she steps off, before she grabs it and holds on as she lifts herself again, this time spinning backward until she stops mid pole and spreads her legs wide. 

_“Cause you know how I like it you’s a dirty little lover.”_  

More money flows as she slides down off it straight into a split.  And she stays there for several moments, before she slides down onto her knees and crawls across the cash littering the stage.  That’s when I hold out the hundred dollar bill. 

_“If the neighbors call the cops, call the sheriff, call the swat, we don’t stop we keep rockin’ while they knockin’ on our door.”_

She grins as she crawls toward me, and she spreads her legs wide and rocks her hips just like she did when she was in my lap.  Then she leans forward, looks right into my eyes, and removes the top with one quick motion. 

_“And you’re screaming give it to me baby, give it to me mother fucka!”_

Her hips are still working as she shoves her breasts together, and looks down at them.  Does she really want me to put the money between her tits?  Dancing for money is one thing, but this I find particularly degrading.  So I shake my head slightly and thrust the money at her.  After she takes it I stand up and walk away.  I return to the chair in the back.  The music is still loud but the lyrics aren’t as important.  And as I watch she returns to the pole.  She doesn’t single out another man to flirt with, thank God.  I don't think I would have been able to stay and watch that.   Or I would have hurt someone if I saw them touch my Rey. 

She’s talented.  She’s athletic and graceful.  She’s amazing.  She commands the stage.  And I try to push down the images of little Rey in her ballet shoes that she wouldn’t take off for weeks, because it’s the last thing her mommy gave her.  Her mommy was a dancer, who’d come from England to New York to dance ballet, but she ended up stripping and killed herself with an overdose, leaving her daughter without anyone to care for her. 

She wanted to be a dancer like her mom.  And now, she is. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this is too much, let me know. I'll try to tweak it and do it somewhere else? Maybe? I don't know. Apparently I enjoy angst and the Ben Solo pain train. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the kind words. If you don't have kind words, share them too. Especially after this reveal. :-D
> 
> Also -- chapter title is different song. I guess you've figured out why.  
> Lyrics from Gorillas by Bruno Mars, and idea for Rey's dance from the video. Good lord it's Frieda Pinto and she is on FIYA!!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> I've been waiting since the beginning to get to **this** scene! (and the next) The reveal just kind of happened organically. Again, I'm sorry.


	14. Turn Your Magic On To Me She'd Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say about this one. i'll let you decide for yourself.

 

The song changes, the lights go down, and another girl takes the stage to strip away their clothes and part of themselves for men and money.  I’m seriously considering leaving and heading to the hotel to wait for her there.  At least there I won’t be surrounded by all of this…

I can’t say temptation.  None of these other girls have even turned my head to make me look.  No, it’s only Rey.  She’s the only reason I’m here, and it’s not because I want to see her naked.  I mean I do want to see her naked, but not really like this.  The reason I’m here is because she is here.  Maybe it’s my screwed up masculine need to protect her.  Maybe it’s my morbid curiosity.  I don’t know, but I’m over it.  I want to be with her, but I don’t want _this_. 

She was so right when she psychoanalyzed me.  I tried to be cool with it, but I’m not.  I can’t be.  That’s not how I’m made I guess. 

I see her walking toward me, topless.  Her small breasts bounce with each long stride.  I see guys turning to watch her walk.  Some of them speak but she ignores them.  She’s coming straight for me, and it hurts oh so good. 

She takes the seat beside me and demands, “Buy me another drink.” 

I had already decided to leave, until she says that.  I can’t say no to her.  So I nod my head, and she waves her hand for a waitress.  A different girl appears, this one wearing a black and white referee shirt and a short white skirt.  Rey orders the same thing she did earlier.  I don’t want to pay thirty dollars for just water again, but I don’t tell her that. 

“Next you’re gonna buy a lap dance,” she says.  I notice she hasn’t looked at me, and her tone is stiff.  Something is not right.  She takes the fake martini and I pay the waitress, giving this one a ten dollar tip too. 

She takes my money with a stilted, “Thank you.”  Then she leans down and whispers something to Rey, who nods. 

“Room three is empty.  Give Kaydel three hundred dollars, and we can be alone for half an hour.” 

I swallow hard.  I should tell her that we could be alone together in the hotel room.  But this is my fault.  I wanted to come here, even though she told me not to.  I didn’t hesitate to walk into the club, knowing what happened inside.  I wanted to see for myself.  I wanted to watch her dance. 

I forgot that strip clubs are rarely ever just about girls stripping.  They’re often about drugs, money laundering, and sometimes even human trafficking.  I should know this, because of my mom.  She’s only talked about this stuff over the dinner table since before I was old enough to understand.  They didn’t tell me what happened to Rey’s mom, I had to figure it out for myself. They talked around the subject, in code and hushed tones, but they didn’t understand I wasn’t a kid anymore.

I pull the money out of my wallet and pay the waitress.  Rey finally looks at me and smiles, but it’s fake.  I don’t know what her plan is, but she stands and I follow her, and she leads me up a set of stairs near the corner where I’m sitting and toward a hallway to the right.  Where ever she’s taking me it’s right over the stage. 

Finally we arrive at a door that doesn’t have a number on it.  I trust she knows where we’re going.  She enters a code and it opens.  Then she gently shoves me toward an overstuffed, older couch along the opposite wall.  I take a seat, imagining how many times I’ll have to wash these pants before I can feel like they're clean.  Hell, I might even burn them. 

The walls are covered in chipped and cracked mirrors.  The carpet is blue.  _Blue_.  It must be leftover from the 80’s.  And there’s a pole in the center of the room.  A stripper pole.  Rey is a stripper after all. 

She walks toward it, and extends her right arm over her head and places her hand on it.  The music is sultry and sexy, but this isn’t about the music or the performance, I can tell.  She tips her head to the side, and I glance up in the corner to see a dark bubble poking out of the ceiling.  Great.  A camera.  Now I guess I’m fucked.  I have no idea why she brought me up here.  Is she setting me up to blackmail me? 

She lifts herself up the pole before spinning around it effortlessly.  When she lands on the ground she looks at me and says, “Turn your magic on, Ben.”

That’s what I used to call it.  My special magic.  I made her promise not to tell anyone.  And then I’d make things float.  Her teddy bear.  Her backpack.  Her favorite bedtime book.  It fascinated her.  When I did it she forgot about being in a home with other damaged kids.  She forgot that she’d lost her mother.  She thought I was magic. 

Maybe I am. 

So I stare at her, which isn’t unusual for a guy who is getting a private show from a stripper.  But I’m not really looking at her.  I’m looking into her mind.  Into her heart, just like Padre Pio.  I slip inside easily, because she’s inviting me in.  It would be more difficult if she was fighting me. 

 ~~~~~

She seems nervous as she leaves me in the corner.  She feels anxious about performing in front of me, knowing that men would look at her and say dirty, degrading things.  But she wants me in the front row so that she can single me out, so she won’t have to approach another man.  She doesn’t want me to be jealous. 

She quickly slides into the jacket, looks in a mirror to make sure the buttons are right and her makeup is good.  And when she does she sees a man standing behind her.  She cringes on the inside when she sees him, and I don’t blame her.  He’s old, bald, and creepy looking, wearing a golden bathrobe like he’s Hugh Hefner or something.  He approaches her and grabs her shoulders from behind.  She tries hard not to flinch, but she can’t help herself. 

“Do you know who the man that bought you the drink is?” he asks her. 

She shakes her head.  “No Mr. Snoke.”  Her voice is even, her tone light.  She’s lying almost convincingly, but she’s still lying. 

“He looks familiar,” he says thoughtfully.  He rubs her shoulders suggestively, as he thinks.  It’s obvious he knows her intimately, that they’ve been intimate before.  It sickens her, but she has to do it.  Whoever he is, he’s important.  “Take him up to room three, Rey.  Don’t disappoint me.” 

She wants to say no.  More than anything, she wants to defy him.  But she doesn’t.  “Yes, Mr. Snoke.” 

“Be a good girl Rey.  Prove Poe wrong.  Show him you can do what you’re told.”  He leans forward and smells her hair, before kissing it.  “Don’t disappoint me again.”

“I won’t, Mr. Snoke,” she assures him.  He releases her as the song ends.  She tries to settle her nerves as she walks on stage. 

Before I know what’s happening everything changes.  I see my uncle and my mother through Rey’s eyes.  They’re younger, though.  And she’s looking up at them.

“Where’s my Ben?” she demands forcefully, in her adorable British accent, with a lisp because of her missing teeth. 

Oh my God, she’s little.  I’m seeing her thoughts from when she was younger.

No, she’s remembering it now.  It’s as if it came to her mind almost unbidden. 

 ** _“No, Ben!”_** I hear her call out.  But it’s Rey now, not little Rey.  She doesn’t want me to see what she’s thinking.  I feel her suddenly fighting against me.  But I refuse to let go.  I want to see this.  I _need_ to see it.  So I push back against her, clawing to stay inside.  

“Honey, Ben’s been hurt.  He’s in the hospital.”  That’s my mom.  It’s her comforting voice, her gentle eyes.  She has a gift, maybe the same gift I have.  But hers is different. 

 ** _“Ben no!”_** she demands.  And she pushes harder. 

“Ben can’t be hurt.  He’s magic,” she argues.  “He does things only he can do.” 

“What?” Luke asks, obviously shocked.  “What does he do Rey?”

“Does he hurt you?  Does he touch you?” my mom asks her.  How could she immediately think that? 

“No.  I’m not supposed to say.  He told me not to tell anyone.”  Little Rey gets protective, just as forceful as adult Rey is being right now, trying to get me out of her head. 

“They spend too much time alone together.”  My mom and my uncle look at each other, sharing their weird twin thing, where it looks like they are communicating without words.  I’ve seen it a thousand times. 

**_“Get out of my head!” she yells._ **

“We have to separate them,” Luke agrees. 

“No!  He didn’t touch me!  Don’t take me away from him!” little Rey screams.

~~~~~ 

She pushes hard, one last time, and suddenly I’m here.  Now. 

I exhale loudly, in a harsh pant.  I’m gazing at her, and she’s staring at me as if she’s spent, not unlike she looks after an orgasm.  She’s holding on to the pole as if it’s an anchor, keeping her in place.  I’m still sitting in the same spot.  I’m afraid of what the camera has seen.  I’m afraid of what they might know if they figure out who I am. 

I’m a priest, and my mom is running for mayor.  And I’m in a strip club.  No, that’s not incriminating at all. 

I ball my fists, and I concentrate all my energy, all my soul, all my _force_ into the camera, the system, the electricity. 

“Ben,” Rey murmurs as she takes a step toward me.  “Ben what are you doing?” 

I look away from her, staring into the camera.  Into the electronics.  Into the wires and cables.  I hear a sizzling sound, and it gets louder.  Then I hear a pop. 

“Stop Ben,” Rey demands, louder.  I feel her hands on my knees, but it’s as if she’s far away.  Like she’s not really here.  Or maybe I’m not here.  Maybe I’m somewhere else. 

I hear several pops.  Louder, and louder.  And louder. 

Then I hear an explosion.  I hear screams.  I hear people running. 

“Ben!” I hear Rey scream, right before she slaps me hard. 

I’m jolted back to reality harshly.  But it’s dark.  I can’t see!  I can’t…

“You caused the light bulbs to burst Ben, and I don’t know what else.  We have to go,” she orders as she grabs my shoulders and shakes me.  Then she takes my hand and pulls me off the couch with a loud, “Come on!”

I follow her blindly.  I let her lead me through the chaos of people running out of the club.  I smell smoke.  But I feel her hand and it grounds me.  She navigates the dark perfectly, and we’re outside in the parking lot quickly.  She easily finds my car. 

The thoughts that she’s topless and her money is somewhere inside the club come to my mind.  I open the passenger door and she climbs in quickly.  Then I get in the drivers’ side and start the car.  When we’re both safe I look at her for guidance.  She nods and gives me a gentle smile. 

She takes my hand and puts it on the gear shift.  “Drive Ben.  Just drive.  I’ll tell you where to go.”  I nod, and come to my senses enough to strip off my jacket and hand it to her.  “Thanks,” she says, and practically snuggles into it.  She inhales deeply.  She’s smelling it, smelling my scent on it. 

I pull onto the street and turn quickly, as I hear sirens approaching.  I glance into the rear view mirror to find smoke billowing out of the front doors.  Her stuff is in there. 

“It’s okay Ben.  It will be fine,” she assures me. 

Her memory pops into my head, like an insect flying in uninvited and stinging at my heart.  They separated us not because of something I did, but because of something she said. 

And everything in my life somehow just got more difficult.  Not just because of what I saw, but because of what I did in the club.  That’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever done with my powers.  But I did it to protect my mom, and Rey.  And myself. 

She places her hand on my thigh and gently squeezes.  Everything I thought I knew, every resentment I held, was for nothing. 

But now I have something else to focus my resentment and hate on.  “Who is Snoke?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, feedback is appreciated and encouraged! Thanks everyone!


	15. I Wanna Share It With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short chapter. Let's call it a prelude.

 

“What are we doing here?” she asks, as we’re parked outside a Walmart about thirteen miles east of the club in Queens.  The only way I got here is Google Navigation, but we’re here, we’re away from the club, and we’re safe.  Rey is safe. 

“Where else can you get clothes at one am on a Saturday?” I ask. 

“Anywhere Ben.  Anywhere but Walmart,” she argues.  But she looks over at the doors and becomes silent.  She knows I’m right.  We can’t drive around the city, we can’t rent a hotel room, with her in just my jacket and bikini bottoms.  “Why can’t I go back to my apartment?  I have clothes there,” she says weakly. 

“They’ll be looking for you there.  Do you really want to explain what happened in that room?” I question.  She turns and stares at me, and I can feel she’s remembering.  The pops were lightbulbs bursting.  I have no idea what the explosions were.  Not that they’ll think I did anything.  Who would suspect I destroyed their surveillance cameras with only my thoughts?  But if I can keep her with me tonight I’ll know she’s safe, and they won’t question her about the incident. 

“Fine.  I need a small, or a four.  32A bra.  Nine and a half shoe.”  I feel like I should be taking notes.  But I’ve got this, right?  How hard can it be? 

I walk into the store, and quickly find the ladies’ clothing.  But there is so much.  Colorful shirts that I don’t think Rey would ever wear, dresses with yards and yards of strange prints that look long enough for me to wear them, and skinny little pants with floral designs so busy they give me a headache. 

But buried down in with those are a few that are solid colors, so I pick up black, white and navy blue in small.  Nearby I find some plain t-shirts, and pick up several: white, black, stripes.  I just make sure they’re small.  I start to look for underwear, and walk past a rack with denim skirts.  They are nothing like the clingy skirts she normally wears.  I grab three.  Then I walk into the underwear aisle.  Who knew there were so many different styles of ladies’ underwear?  Hipsters, bikini, cheekies, boy shorts.  Thongs?  No.  I grab a six pack of the bikinis, studying the packaging to make sure they were small. 

That’s when I hear, “Father Ben?” 

I close my eyes immediately.  This absolutely can’t be happening.  I’m not even in Manhattan!  I turn slowly toward the voice, and try to form a lie quickly. 

What have I become?  Strip clubs, hookers, drinking, lying?  This is _not_ me. 

It’s one of the ladies from the church.  She looks astonished.  She’s probably late forties, early fifties.  Not involved in many of the groups.  I’m searching my brain for her name.  Why can’t I remember it?  Finally it hits me. 

“Hello Ms. Antonio.  I’m, um, shopping for the women’s shelter.  They’ve had several recent additions, young girls in bad situations, and I volunteered to buy a few things.”  Please believe my lie.  _Please believe me_. 

Her expression softens and she smiles at me.  “You’re such a good young man, Ben Solo.  You make the church proud.”  She pats my shoulder and moves on quickly. 

I sigh loudly as I shove the panties into the crook of my arm.  I grab a white lace bra, and a pink lace bra, and a nude one, before I head toward shoes.  I expect them to be easier.  They aren’t.  Heels, tennis shoes, boots, plastic flip flops?  No. 

Then I find a pair of natural looking sandals.  I like them.  I get them in every color.  Apparently when it comes to Rey I have no filter and no control, not even when buying clothing.  I mean, she might not even like them.  But whatever.  She can donate what she doesn’t want.  At least my arms are so full it looks like I’m donating to a shelter. 

As I’m walking toward the registers I pass the jewelry counter.  Something catches my eye and I stop suddenly.  I see all the sparkling diamonds, and I know she should be wearing them.  She should be wearing the jewelry that I’ve bought for her, for Christmas or her birthday, high school graduation, college graduation, or a surprise engagement ring during a week at Disney. 

Life has been so fucking unfair to us. 

I stand and stare so long a young man comes up to the counter.  “Do you need some help?” he asks, while motioning toward my full arms. 

“I’d like those,” I say, and point toward the glass case.  

“Which ones?” he asks, and grabs a set of keys out of his pocket. 

“The diamond solitaire earrings.”  He opens the door and reaches in to grab the smallest pair.  “No, no the next one.”  I stop and think of Rey.  She was cheated of everything I could have offered her because my mother thought I was hurting her. _My own damn mother!_ “No.  The big ones,” I correct him. 

“They’re…” he begins, and turns them over to look at the price. 

“I don’t care.  I want them,” I say, and drop the clothes on the counter to pull out my wallet. 

“Yes sir,” he says, and takes them to the register.  He also rings up the clothing.  I hand him my card, not even caring about the price. 

It’s for Rey.  She deserves more than this.  She deserves everything. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prelude to what, you might ask?   
> Maybe you shouldn't ask. :-D
> 
> Thank you everyone for all the amazing comments! Myself, as most other writers do, live for the feedback! Thank you. Thank you! THANK YOU!


	16. I Focus On The Pain, The Only Thing That's Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. Another prelude.  
> A glance into Rey's thoughts.

 

“I don’t need all of this,” she says as I hand her the reusable shopping bags.  Yes, I needed three.  I might have gone a little overboard. 

“Whatever you don’t want you can give away, or donate.”  I’ve placed the earrings in my pocket, so I watch anxiously as she pulls items out one at a time.  When she finds the underwear she tears into the packaging and somehow easily and quickly pulls them on.  She has on the floral print t-shirt, one I didn’t think she’d wear, thankfully when someone parks beside us.  They get out of their car and walk toward the store without looking twice at us. 

“Did you get me a chocolate bar?” she asks after she has one of the denim skirts on, the one that I liked with the buttons down the front.  She slides one of the pairs of sandals on her feet, and she looks like any random college student.  She fluffs her hair and pulls down the sun visor to look at herself.  “Did you bring me lip gloss?”

“I couldn’t read your mind Rey.”  I sigh heavily. 

She rolls her eyes and gives me a grin that shows off her dimples.  It sends a wave of solace through me.  “Yes, you kinda can,” she says with a chuckle. 

“I could go back in and get you a candy bar, or we could find an all-night diner and eat something equally unhealthy.” 

She looks down at her outfit, nods, and accepts in dramatic fashion.  “That sounds marvelous.  I’m starving.” 

“Good.  I saved the best for last,” I tell her as I pull the jewelry box out of my pocket. 

She gasps loudly.  “Ben!”  She looks at it for several moments, unsure if she should take it or not. 

“Just open it, Rey,” I encourage her.  I go ahead and open it when she refuses to take it. 

She covers her mouth and moans, “Oh.  My.  God.”  She touches one, and watches it sparkle in the low light.  “I can’t wear those.  I’m a hooker.  Someone will cut my ears off for them!” 

“You don’t have to be a hooker Rey.  You don’t have to be a stripper.  You can be anything you want to be.”  I say it as I start the car and pull out of the spot.  I can feel her emotions bubbling.  I know she wants to argue.  I know she wants to argue with me.  But I just don’t want to hear it.  I don’t want to hear what she is, or what she feels like she has to be.  I want to talk about what she _wants_ to be. 

“You always do that when you’re thinking something but you’re afraid to say it,” she says.  I look at her out of the corner of my eye, while I’m trying to follow navigation and watch the road.  “That thing with your jaw.  It seems like you’re fighting real hard against yourself not to say what you want to say.” 

“I want to take you out to eat, Rey.  It would make me so happy to sit down at a restaurant with you and chat and…” 

She interrupts me, “Like a date?” 

Yes, just like a date.  But I don’t say it. 

“You’re doing it again,” she says accusingly. 

“I don’t want to argue with you,” I continue. 

“What are we going to argue about?” she counters almost playfully. 

“Nothing.  We’re not going to argue about anything because I don’t want to argue with you.  You don’t want the earrings?  You don’t have to take them,” I say.  I hear my voice straining to stay level.  I don’t want to get loud.  I don’t want to yell at her.  Not now, not after what we just went through. 

She inhales loudly, and then she giggles.  I stop at a red light and turn to look at her, and her eyes are huge.  “You’re trying to make up for all the years we lost with diamond earrings from Walmart?  Really?” 

“They’re still diamonds Rey,” I state defensively.  “I’m sorry I was in Walmart when I bought the damn diamond earrings.”  I groan.  Why can’t I say anything right tonight? 

“Nothing you can buy can change the past,” she says softly but sternly.  There’s something strong and tough in her voice.  I don’t like it. 

“And if you hadn’t told Luke and Leia my secret, we would have been together,” I remind her.  Right before I bite my bottom lip and shake my head.  “I’m sorry Rey.  I didn’t mean…”

She scoffs, and I try to keep my eyes on the road.  But I don’t.  I look.  She’s staring out the window.  “No, you’re right.  I remembered that every day for years.  I told myself it was my fault we weren’t together.  Since we met again, I’ve remembered it too often.  You were injured in a car wreck, and I betrayed you.  Everything that happened was my punishment.” 

“No Rey.  You were a kid.”

“And so were you Ben,” she says gently. 

“I was fourteen Rey!  I wasn’t a kid.”  There my tone goes again, as if I have no control over it.  I decide not to say anything else.  This was supposed to be for Rey, to protect her and keep her safe, not to drudge up the past and make her feel even worse.  “I don’t want to fight,” I say again as we finally pull up to the diner.  “Can we just eat and find a place to sleep?  I’m so tired.”  I haven’t been sleeping, it’s after one in the morning, I just used my magic to do something I never imagined I could do, and I have to be up at seven to drive back to Manhattan in time for confessional. 

“I can eat at the hotel.  It’s too late for this,” she says as she looks out the window.  But I feel like she means more than fried foods.  I think she means us.  And she wouldn’t be wrong. 

“Are you sure?”  I look down at my watch, and it’s nearly two now. 

“Yes I’m sure.  Let’s go somewhere close.  I’m tired too.”  She turns to me and smiles.  But there are no dimples. 

Maybe she’s being honest.  Maybe she’s as tired as I am. 

I put hotel in the navigation, and hit enter.  “There’s one two miles from here.  It’s not five stars.”

“It’s fine, Ben.”  I nod gratefully, and put the car in gear again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not literally though. Just a short conversation about the elephant in the room.  
> Neither of them are going to forgive themselves any time soon.
> 
> Also... The title is from NIN Hurt... This song came to mind, and it's just so Ugh! Soooo Priest!Ben and Hooker!Rey


	17. That's Me In The Corner.  That's Me In The Spotlight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think you know what the chapter name means. 
> 
> And fair warning this one is NSFW!!!

She leaves the bathroom in only her new underwear.  I should have thought this through a little more.  If I had I might have bought her pajamas too.  Underwear should not be that sexy, especially the supposedly modest ones I bought for her.  She grins at me as she saunters toward the bed, and I feel almost like I’m having an out of body experience, like this isn’t really happening to me. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she teases, and I have to grab the sheet to hold myself in place so I don’t slide away from her.  She scares the crap out of me and I think she knows it.  I think it thrills her to know the power she has over me.  She lifts the covers before she slides into the bed.  “You look afraid, Ben.” 

I’ve left the light on over the nightstand on my side of the bed, and she’s facing me.  I gaze at her, taking in her perfectly arched brows, her tiny nose, and her high cheekbones.  She removed all her makeup before she came to bed, so I get to just look at _her_.  She’s so gorgeous it makes me ache.  At times like this I feel like I would do anything, _any thing_ , to have her.  To feel her wrap her warmth around me.  To see her body full with child. 

I gasp as I think it.  Where did that come from?  But now that the thought is there, I can’t get it out of my head.  I know that she’s too young, and even if we were together we’d have to wait.  She’d just be out of college and maybe we’d go away for a month or two while she decides what to do next. 

She moves slightly, and her hair falls away from her cheek.  I see the light catch on the diamond in her ear.  I feel my lips tip up on the corners.  I can’t stop myself from reaching out to brush my fingertips against her cheek, then touch the earring. 

“Ben,” she whispers without opening her eyes. 

My heart stops.  It’s incredible having her say my name in that almost asleep haze.  Does she often think of me at that time?  Does she say my name when she is with other men?

I breathe in deep and bite my cheek.  Why am I trying to hurt myself like that? 

Her eyelids flutter open.  “Ben,” she sighs.  “You’re wearing too many clothes.” 

I look down at my black pants and shirt.  “It’s what I always wear.” 

“I want you to take off your shirt.  I want to see what’s you’re hiding underneath.”  She reaches over as she says it, glances up at me, then begins to work at the buttons. 

“No,” I say as I grab her wrist, maybe a little too tight.  “Do you want me to spank you again?”  Her eyes immediately come up to find mine, and they grow wide with what might be fear.  Good.  Maybe it’s good for her to have an understanding that her actions have consequences.  . 

“What are you afraid of?  You afraid I might see your chest and rape you?” she mocks me.  I shake my head even though I keep my eyes on hers.  “You’ve seen me naked.  What would it hurt to show me your chest?”  

She’s so persistent, and she weakens my resolve so easily.  And it doesn’t help that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.  Her hazel eyes twinkle gold with mischief, just like they did when she was younger.  “Why do you want to see it so bad?” I ask, as I feel my grip on her loosening. 

“For the same reason I wanted to touch your hair so bad.  I want to test my own personal theories.”  Her eyes travel down my face, my neck, to the buttons.  “I want to see if you’re as big as I think you are.” 

I inhale and feel myself getting hard at the implications of her words.  She did mention how big my dick is, so of course I think about that.  No, that’s all me.  It’s all my dirty mind. 

“If you’re big everywhere,” she continues. 

I let her hand go, probably just from the shock of her words, and the next thing I know she’s straddling my hips and attacking my buttons. 

I relent.  I know I can’t fight her for long.  She has me right where she wants me, in more ways than one.  And I shock both of us when I say what I’m thinking.  “You would have been spoiled rotten, Rey.  I would have given you everything your heart desires, and then some.”  She chuckles as she looks up at me again, but her hands don’t stop.  “You would have been impossible to live with.  No boy would have ever been good enough for you.” 

“Except you?” she whispers.  Her eyes grow dark and heavy with something I can’t identify.  “And that’s how you would’ve wanted it.” 

“Exactly.”  If we’re going to fantasize about an alternate universe, I might as well go all out.  “I would have made sure you didn’t look at another boy.  And I’m sure if you did I would have warned him to stay away from you.” 

She gasps and her eyes get wide when she opens my shirt triumphantly and gazes at her prize.  It’s not that impressive really.  I mean I’m big and strong but I’m not defined or anything.  I don’t have a lot of pretty muscles.  I’m just…

“Damn you are sooo fucking huge,” she mutters.  Then her hands trail up my stomach, and ghost over my pecs.  Just as I’m about to grab her hands again they’re on my neck, and finally they hide in my hair.  Once she has a tight grip in my hair, enough to make me hiss, she rolls her hips into me. 

Mine chase after hers.  She doesn’t go far, before she seats herself right on top of my dick.  When I realize what I’m doing, that I’m actually humping her, I try to pull back.  But it’s too late.  She melts her body into mine, holding my head to swoop down for a kiss.  I ball my hands into fists, and try to resist her tongue teasing my lips, begging for entry.  But I can’t.  I am only human and she is very good at getting what she wants from me. 

So I open my mouth and suck, and she groans deep in her chest.  Just a kiss, I lie to myself. 

She begins to wiggle against me.  I can’t believe how good it feels to have her like this, on top of me, using me to find her own pleasure and release.  But also, damn the stimulation on my dick is overwhelming and yet not nearly enough.  I can’t stop thinking how easy it would be to get inside her.  How she would open up to me, and moan for me, and tell me how good I feel.  How big I am. 

One of her hands releases its hold, and it eagerly moves down my body.  I groan when her fingers brush against my nipple.  I ache when they find the line of hair on my stomach.  And when they move down further I realize I want it.  I wouldn’t tell her no if she grabbed me.  I wouldn’t stop her for anything in the world, not even to save my soul. 

But she doesn’t take me in her hand.  She touches herself.  The back of her fingers rub against my erection, and just the secondary pressure makes me shake.  I move one of my own hands down to meet hers.  There isn’t a question of should I be doing it.  I have to do it.  I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t touch myself.

She pulls her hand away and arches her back, breaking our kiss.  She stuns me when she cries out, “Fuck Ben!” Her entire body tightens up, and that’s when I feel the heat of her, the wetness on her panties against the backs of my fingers. 

Suddenly I’m not rubbing my cock as much as I’m rubbing against her.  She responds beautifully.  She tips her head forward to gaze into my eyes, and hers glitter with lust.  She is amazing.  She is incredible.  She is everything. 

I don’t even think it might be wrong before I flip my hand over and caress her, feel her, explore her.  When I touch her pubic bone a little too roughly she whimpers, but exclaims, “Yes!”  She begins moving her hips again, telling me without words where to touch her.  She pauses at the center where she’s the wettest and moves back and forth, before she rolls up and shoves down onto my fingers.  Her clit, I suppose. 

It’s spectacular to watch her fall apart on top of me.  I’ve nearly forgotten my own state of arousal watching her. 

“Ohhhh fuck!” she growls, before she grabs my wrist.  Her eyes change drastically, becoming dark emerald surrounding gold.  Then her other hand pulls her panties aside, and I feel her skin.  “Please Ben.  Spoil me for other men,” she moans.

Damn it how could she do that?  How could she use my words against me? 

“So wet for you Ben.  Just for you.”  She’s chanting the words, almost trancelike.  “So wet.  So hot.  You’re so big for me, so perfect.” 

Once her panties are out of the way she grabs hold of my erection, and I drag my breath through my teeth.  She smiles at me, with dimples and teeth and tongue. 

She’s right, she’s warm, and wet, and spread open wide for me.  And who am I kidding even thinking I could resist her.  “You know I’ll always give you what you want,” I tell her as I extend one finger and she slides down onto it.  I am inside her warmth, and I know it’s where I belong. 

We both shiver violently. 

“So good Ben.”  She almost sounds like she’s laughing.  I don’t know if it’s with pleasure or victory, or both. 

“Kiss me Rey,” I demand. 

She throws herself at me and I welcome her just as she has me.  Her tongue is as demanding as her body, luring mine in and nipping with her teeth.  I extend another finger and she moans into my mouth.  I feel her getting tighter, and I feel the same sensation in my balls.  She’s close to orgasm. 

If I’m going to hell I want to do it the way I want.  My free hand moves up her ribs, shoves her bra upward, and captures her breast.  I feel her nipple peaking against my palm.  My thumb finds her clit, and she groans in ecstasy.  She is mine.  She always has been. 

She doesn’t break the kiss to cry out when she comes, I take it into my mouth.  It’s the most powerful, most magical thing I’ve ever experienced.  Just as soon as it happens my own orgasm hits, and I pant and groan with her. 

She is worth losing my religion for. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you love it! If you do let me know! I love comments!


	18. One Foot In Front Of The Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh how I love Walk The Moon! 
> 
> This is another short chapter, but we're getting to the good stuff! I PROMISE!

I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s not here when I wake up.  I’m getting used to it.  I’m really starting to think I’m imagining her.  Perhaps I’m finally having a psychiatric breakdown.  Maybe all the anger from having her taken from me has manifested an adult version of her to torture me even more than I already torture myself.  Perhaps…

“Ben, turn off your damn alarm,” I hear from the bathroom. 

I exhale loudly before the corners of my lips tip up, before they part.  Is that an actual smile?  Is she really here with me?  Am I actually sane?  Well, that last part is debatable. 

“Ben, for Christ’s sake!” she yells as she leaves the bathroom. 

I roll over to turn off the alarm, but I’m not going to let her get away with that.  “First thing’s first.  We don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” I tell her.  I turn over on the bed so I’m looking at her, and she slithers in beside me at the same time so we’re facing each other. 

“Whatever Father,” she mocks, as she moves closer. 

“I’m serious Rey,” I warn her, as her hand reaches out to touch my stomach. 

“Okay, I’m sorry.”  She leans forward on her elbows, and her lips follow the trail her fingertips make over my abs.  I don’t even think about stopping her.  I want her to touch me more than anything, and I'm happy that she actually seems to like doing it. She looks up at me, and her pretty eyes are more green than gold.  “Ben, I’m afraid.” 

I brush her hair back off her cheeks.  “What are you afraid of?  Poe?”  

She shrugs, and gives me a slight shake of her head. 

“Snoke?” I continue. 

“I’m afraid of you.  I’m afraid you’re too good, and you’ll eventually realize how bad I am,” she whispers. 

“No,” I mutter, and cup her face in my hands.  She’s so young, so vulnerable, so beautiful she makes my heart hurt. 

“I’m afraid God will punish me again for seducing you,” she continues. 

“No Rey.  Don’t ever think that.  This is Luke’s fault.  He separated us after God brought us together.”  I rest my forehead against hers, and take a deep breath.  I almost can’t believe I get to hold her like this, touch her. 

“I’m afraid you’ll realize you’ve made a mistake, and you’ll resent me.” 

I lean my head forward to graze her lips with mine.  “Don’t be afraid of anything.  Just trust me.” 

“So what’s with the early alarm?  What do you have planned for today?” she asks, as she cuddles against my side.  She rests her cheek against my chest and idly rubs her fingertips up and down my ribs. 

My body is hers now.  I wonder if she knows it on some primal level.  I wonder if she understands that I’m wrapped around those soft feminine fingers.  Everything I have, everything I am, is now hers. 

“I’ll be dropping you off at my mom’s before I head to the church.  I’ll hear confession before I ask to see Luke privately, then I’ll tell him my plans to leave the priesthood.” 

She gasps when I mention Leia, but when I finally admit that I don’t want to be a priest anymore, she rolls up onto her knees again and exclaims, “Ben you can’t!” 

“I have to.  There’s no question, no arguing.” 

Her eyes get wide and turn a darker green, before she quickly looks away.  “Can’t we go slower?  You should take your time, make sure you’ve made the right decision.” 

I smile as I pull her to me again to kiss the top of her head.  “I can’t split my soul between you and God.  I don’t want to.”  She exhales loudly and tries to pull away, but I hold her to me tighter.  “I want to be yours.  If you’ll have me.”

She doesn’t say anything for several moments, and I feel my own fear wash over me.  She doesn’t want me.  She’s just using me for my money.  Everything she said was…

“I want you Ben, but I don’t want to be the reason you fall.”  Her voice is gentle and warm when she says it.  Her eyes look like a forest in rain, all soft and wet.  She looks as sweet and innocent as she did when she was a child, running to me for comfort. 

“You aren’t, my love.  I took the wrong path because of Luke’s interference.”  I try to keep my voice as calm as hers, but I think my feeling for my uncle bleed through. 

“That’s my fault,” she starts. 

But I won’t let her blame herself.  “We were children.  Luke was the one who made the decisions.  And they were wrong.”  I kiss her one more time, then grab her shoulders and hold her at arm’s length.  “Now get dressed.  Leia won’t appreciate you in underwear like I do.” 

She bites her bottom lip, worrying at it with the thoughts running through her head.  Finally she shrugs and nods.  “I don’t think we should, but it’s your decision.  And I’m with you, just like I was fourteen years ago.” 

I smile at her.  “Go get dressed Sunshine.” 

She finally dimples up at the name I called her when she was little.  “Let’s do this,” she says excitedly as she slides off the bed. 

I’m ready.  I’ve been ready since we found each other again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and kudoing!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I should be working on other stuff. Sometimes what's in my head can't be denied. I don't make the rules, I just live by them. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. :-D


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